The Edge of Seventeen
by MuffinLove03
Summary: Phoebe has a secret that could change everyone's lives forever. As the gang goes through their junior year, they'll learn more than they were ready for about love, friendship, and never taking precious moments for granted.
1. Chapter 1

The cacophony of the different hallway bells, all ringing at different pitches, was relief to Helga's ears as the discordant sound signaled the end of third period and the beginning of their half hour lunch break. Students milled about around her as she and her classmates filed out of the science lab and into the narrow hallway. Hillwood High was composed of two sections: the old building and the new addition. The new addition had, as the name suggests, newer and fresher flooring, paint, and equipment amidst a color scheme of blue and white while the old building's hallways were more narrow, lacked air conditioning, and consisted of a more dreary beige, tan, and black color scheme. The science labs were, thankfully, located in the new addition, as was Helga's locker. Given that the humid heat of the tail end of summer was still gripping at the September air, most students coveted the fleeting time they were able to spend in the new addition.

Helga stopped at her locker and began switching out her books so she wouldn't have to stop again before her fourth period English class after lunch.

"Greetings Helga," Phoebe's voice behind her caused Helga to turn around. Phoebe's third period class was Earth Science in the lab next to Helga's. "How did your lab report turn out?" Phoebe had spent the better part of the past week coaching Helga on proper formatting for science reports. They were much more technical than Helga was used to being in her writing - there was little room or patience for the eloquent, ornate, and flowery language Helga preferred.

"I guess we'll find out," Helga shrugged, closing her locker and beginning to walk down the hallway leading to the old building. The cafeteria, being in the old building, was usually quite hot in the beginning of the school year. Between the lack of air conditioning and all the ovens going constantly for hours to prepare food for hundreds of students, it could be pretty uncomfortable. The faculty and staff tried to accommodate for the heat by turning on fans and opening windows but the relief this offered was minimal.

As they made their way to the cafeteria, crowds of students gradually increasing as they neared the one spot everyone was headed, Helga dropped her books into Phoebe's hands.

"Here, hold these, would'ya?" she said coarsely, with scarcely a glance to check that Phoebe didn't mind, as she slipped out of the lightweight plaid button-down and tied it in a knot around her waist. She chastised herself for not thinking to remove the garment before she left her locker but with the new addition's chilly air conditioning, it was easy to forget that just several yards down the hall she would soon be sweating bullets.

Phoebe looked at her friend expectantly, assuming she would offer to take her books back now that she'd adjusted herself, but to no avail so she sighed, shifting the weight of her messenger bag to a more comfortable position and carrying Helga's books in her arms.

"Cover up, Ms. Pataki!" one of the teachers on lunch duty called to Helga across the crowd.

Helga stretched her arms out in innocent self-righteousness. "Criminy, it's just a tank top!" She disregarded the teacher's command and continued to mill into the cafeteria with the rest of the students. Murmuring under her breath, "Damn, you'd think she's never seen tits before. It's freaking hot; god forbid a bit of shoulder and cleavage shows,"

"Uh huh," Phoebe said, distracted by the weight she was carrying, her focus primarily on identifying and securing a table. "Hey Helga," Phoebe said as she began setting their things down at an empty table. "Do you mind saving our table so that I can get my -"

But Helga wasn't paying attention; she'd already slipped into one of the hot foods lines and was no longer in earshot.

Phoebe sighed and sat down, waiting as she always did for Helga to return with her food so that she could leave the table and buy her own. The trouble with that was that by the time Helga typically returned, the food lines had tripled in length because of all of the other classes letting out and bombarding the cafeteria. Phoebe usually ended up having to rush through her meal which was why she usually opted to bring a lunch from home but on this day, she'd forgotten and was paying the price.

Helga eventually returned to the table, plopping down into one of the chairs and greedily opening and chugging half of her milk down right away.

"I'm going to get my food now," Phoebe said, standing up as Helga removed the top bun from her burger and began adding ketchup to it.

"Gotcha Pheebs," Helga responded. "Oh hey, can you grab me a couple more ketchup packets? I forgot to get some for my fries. Oh, and another chocolate milk?"

Phoebe's facial expression pained but she sighed defeatedly. "Sure thing, Helga,"

"Make it snappy, Pheebs!" Helga called after her friend as she left the table. "Lunch is over in ten minutes!"

. . . . . . . .

"How's it going, Gerald?" Arnold said as he sat down next to his best friend after lunch. They had fourth period World History together with Mr. Buchanan who everyone suspected was new to teaching because he had zero clue on how to manage a classroom. They'd have classroom reading assignments but most people ended up talking the whole time while Mr. Buchanan pretended everyone was doing the assignment, focusing on the students who actually did their work instead of trying to corral the others into staying on task.

"Man, have you seen some of the dimes walkin' around these halls this year?" Gerald leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the desk beside him. "Mmm, mmm, MMM. I don't know what happened over the summer but this has got to be the year of ducklings turned swans,"

Arnold grinned, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I thought you were dating Cassandra?"

"Nah man," Gerald said, sitting a little straighter in his chair. "We were just talking over the summer - nothing serious,"

"Whatever you say, Gerald," Arnold said as he opened his notebook. Arnold was one of the few students who at least attempted to focus during this class but with Gerald, Sid, Stinky, and Harold all vying for his attention, he usually ended up faltering half-way through the period.

"Man," Gerald said, shaking his head as he scooted up closer to his desk, eyeing his friend like he was a lost puppy. "When are you gonna taste some of the finer things in life? And by life, I mean _this school_ and by the finer things, I _mean,_ the _finer_ things," Gerald said pointedly, nodding his head toward a particularly pretty classmate of theirs who was walking in.

"I don't even like her like that, Gerald," Arnold dismissed him.

Gerald stared at his friend incredulously. "Dude, what's not to like?"

Arnold sighed, chuckling at his friend's animated behavior. "How about _you_ talk to her?"

"Don't turn this around on me, Arnold," Gerald shook his head. "We're talkin' about you. Besides, I got enough honeys flockin' to me, baby,"

Arnold chortled, "Oh, _okay_ ,"

"Man, why you hatin'?" Gerald sat back in his seat, shaking his head. "Watch this,"

Arnold watched as Gerald turned around in his seat toward the girl who had just walked in. She was pretty enough - shoulder length brown hair with a fading summer tan and hints of freckles across her nose.

"Hey Amber," Gerald called to her in a lower voice, hooding his eyelids and giving her a half-smile. "'Sup?"

Amber quirked her head in a combination of confusion and amusement. " _Really?_ "

"How you doin'?" Gerald said, apparently not getting the message before Arnold grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around.

"You sound like Joey from Friends," Arnold stifled a chuckle.

"Man," Gerald huffed. "That's cool, that's cool,"

"Real smooth," Arnold grinned, turning his attention back to his notebook.

. . . . . . . .

After school, Phoebe caught up with Helga on their way to the bus stop as students dispersed in a myriad of different directions. Hillwood High pulled in students from multiple districts and so their classmates consisted of more than just the neighborhood kids they'd grown up with.

"There you are," Helga greeted her friend as she approached.

"Yes," Phoebe said, slightly flustered. "Helga, could you save me a seat on the bus, please? Mrs. Lankowski asked me to bring these files over to her classroom after the final bell,"

"Sure thing, Pheebs," Helga nodded.

"Thank you!" Phoebe said, her face brightening as she nodded in return and ducked back into the school building.

Helga turned around, watching the cars pass by as she waited for the bus. Dozens of students were congregated in small groups around her, chatting about everything from clothes to classes to weekend plans.

"Hey Helga," a familiar voice beside her snapped her out of her people-watching. "How was your summer vacation?"

Composing herself after the initial shock of his presence, Helga retorted, "Well, summer vacation ended three weeks ago, Football-head,"

"Yeah, I know," Arnold shrugged, following her gaze down the road as they searched for the bus in the traffic. "But I haven't seen you since school started,"

"And that's a problem, why?" Helga scoffed icily.

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Fine," he shrugged in resignation. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"Well don't," Helga replied, stepping closer to the curb as she saw the bus approaching. "It's weird,"

Arnold's head quirked. "Why would it be weird?" He asked as he stepped up to the curb with her, the bus gradually coming to a stop in front of them.

"Because it just… is, I don't know!" Helga said vaguely as she stepped up into the bus, dropping a couple tokens into the meter and making her way down the aisle.

"You're really convincing," Arnold said smugly, taking the seat behind her and leaning forward, crossing his arms over her seat to which he received a sharp glare.

"I don't need you telling me what I am or am not, bucko," Helga snapped. "You must be really bored - where's Tall-Hair Boy?"

"He's staying after school for football try-outs," Arnold replied casually, still leaning over the back of Helga's chair and making her shudder with how close he was to her. Her crush on him had never subsided, though she had matured enough to ditch the shrines and stalking in favor of more poetry and avoidance.

"Great," Helga mumbled, trying to maintain a scowl even as the warmth emanating from Arnold's face, just inches behind her, proved to be a formidable distraction. She could feel his slightest movements and every time he exhaled, the wind of it blew slightly at the baby hair at her neck, tickling her.

"What about your other half?" Helga resisted the urge to shiver when the tickle at the nape of her neck became too much. She started to turn toward him but stopped halfway because otherwise, she'd be face to face with him and only inches apart - dangerous territory.

"Um, what?" She asked dumbly.

"Phoebe," Arnold chuckled, at the very least aware of how uncomfortable she was right now. A small part of him was enjoying seeing her squirm a little bit.

"Oh," Helga said, registering the question in her mind as she also noticed the fact that the bus was moving. "Oh, _shit!_ I told her I'd hold the bus for her,"

"Oh man," Arnold said, looking out the window as they'd already pulled out into traffic.

"Oh well," Helga shrugged, reasoning that there was no stopping the bus now. "She'll be fine. Besides, if she asks, it was your fault, Football-head,"

"My fault?" Arnold feigned offense.

"Yes, _your fault_ ," Helga's voice discovered its edge once again and she snapped the blame back at him, making sure to meet his gaze with a scowl but all she saw were dancing green eyes with little gold flecks catching the dwindling sunlight from the windows. His confidence radiating from his gaze, the upturned eyebrow and slight quirk of his lips in a half-grin, his casual posture as he seemed completely content to lean against the back of her bus seat for the entire ride. She quickly turned back around, ignoring the fire burning in her belly and inwardly cursing him for being so damned attractive.

. . . . . . . .

It wasn't that Phoebe had been surprised when she came outside to find Helga gone and no bus in sight. Maybe she was a little disappointed but this had been a pattern throughout their friendship. Helga didn't often see or understand how she affected people and was often focused more on her own needs and desires. This wasn't to say she didn't care - Phoebe knew she did but some part of her still wondered at times. They'd had falling outs in the past in which Helga always promised to be a more attentive, thoughtful friend but it always wore off. Helga was Helga and this didn't seem to be a pattern that was going to go away any time soon.

Phoebe took a seat at a nearby bench by the bus stop to wait for the next one to arrive. Most of the students who had been outside in throngs earlier were gone so she was able to sit in moderate quiet without the chatter of her peers. As she pulled out one of her books from her messenger bag, she skipped to the page she had delicately marked with a bookmark from the library and began to read.

Voices behind her pulled her out of her book and she turned around to see some guys exiting the building clad in sweat-drenched gym clothes, among them was Gerald.

Phoebe had harbored a crush on Gerald since they were children but was much too shy to say or do anything about it. Besides, despite her crush, he didn't seem to be the type of guy she would be compatible with. He was always flirting with or going out with a different girl and her quiet personality was nothing compared to his gregarious and outgoing style.

Still, she felt butterflies in her stomach when he sat down on the bench next to her. She stole glances at him as he lifted his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow and begged herself not to look, though she did anyway. The flutter in her stomach increasing, she opened her book up again and tried to force herself to read.

"Hey Phoebe," Gerald said casually and Phoebe paused to collect herself. "Do you know when the next bus is coming?"

"I'm afraid I didn't see when the last one left but they usually arrive in half hour intervals so I don't imagine it should be too long," She said automatically and then when he didn't immediately respond, she sank back down into her seat and returned her eyes to her book.

"What are you reading?" Gerald asked as he pulled a bottle of water out of his bookbag and took a swig.

"Oh, um," Phoebe stumbled, turning the book cover over to read the title even though she fully knew exactly what she was reading. "To Kill A Mockingbird,"

Gerald nodded thoughtfully. "Isn't that on the senior class reading list? Trying to get a head start on next year, huh?" He chuckled.

"Actually, Mr. Hendrix has a list of recommended books that I'm working my way through," Phoebe responded, barely lifting her gaze.

"Gotcha," Gerald replied. "So how many are on it?"

"A hundred," Phoebe stated matter-of-factly. "Then there's also the British and European literature lists,"

Gerald's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, good luck with that,"

"Thanks," Phoebe squeaked, her heartbeat thumping as she thanked the heavens that she could finally see another bus approaching in the distance.

. . . . . . . .

Phoebe sat in almost complete darkness in her room sans the desk lamp illuminating the homework in front of her and the light from a smaller lamp by her bed. She knew many of her friends would be going to the movies or hanging out at the mall like any other Friday night and for a moment, envied them.

"Sugar?" Phoebe's mom knocked at the door, stirring her from her thoughts.

"Come in, Mother," Phoebe called cheerily, turning around in her desk chair.

"Hey sweetheart," Phoebe's mom said as she came in and walked over to her daughter, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and bending down to rest her cheek against the top of her daughter's head. "How you feelin'?"

Phoebe shrugged. "I'm alright," She nodded assuringly.

"Okay baby," Phoebe's mom stood up straight and Phoebe noted the way her mother stared at her, not in a weird way but in the way a parent watches their baby in awe. A combination of hope, worry, pride, awe, and love. "Your appointment's at 8 tomorrow so don't forget to set your alarm,"

"I won't, Mother," Phoebe offered a small smile. "Thank you,"

Phoebe's mom pursed her lips, nodding before she made her way over to the door. "Get some sleep, Phoebe,"

As Phoebe's mom exited the room, Phoebe yawned and turned out her desk lamp, looking at the time on the clock by her bed. It was barely 10 but she was already feeling drained and with her appointment in the morning, she knew she needed to get adequate rest. She hoped this would be the last time she'd have to go. That would make her life so much easier. She was supposed to take her SATs later this year and begin researching colleges. There was junior prom and a ring ceremony to look forward to as well as the standard school dances and events. She'd spent the better part of a year hiding this secret, much to her parents' chagrin. The sooner she could put this past her, the sooner she could feel normal. Things would _be_ normal without the weight of this on her conscience.

As she crawled into bed, she hoped against hope that she wouldn't have to tell anyone. That this could be a part of her past that when she finally did confide in someone outside of her immediate family about it, she could say "Oh, don't worry, it's over now,"

Phoebe flipped the switched on her bedside lamp before settling into her blanket and falling into a restless sleep.

 **[A/N: Not the most dramatic chapter but I do have some drama planned in later chapters! We'll work up to it. In the meantime, comments are appreciated! :)]**


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so much for your reviews! Also, for those of you that have asked and/or may be wondering, I have not abandoned any of my other fics. I have a few in rotation right now and most have substantial notes and/or partial chapters written for them. I just kind of follow where my motivation takes me but trust that my goal is to finish them all! :)**

 **In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter and comment your thoughts. Thank you!**

 **D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold]**

Saturdays were not a time for rest and relaxation for Helga. Saturdays, and weekends in general, meant that she was stuck at home more often and more likely to have to listen to her parents' incessant arguing.

About a year ago, Miriam had started attending AA meetings and ever since then, she'd developed the smallest of backbones when it came to standing up to Big Bob and his rude, thoughtless behavior. While Helga silently praised her mom for kicking the booze and growing a pair, it also drove her crazy having to listen to the fighting. When her mom was drunk, Big Bob was the only one yelling and once he said his piece, it was over. But these arguments could last hours, with doors slamming, books being thrown in fits of frustration, and it was all Helga could do to not pull her hair out having to listen to it.

Summer vacation had been the worst – which is why Helga had spent most of her days over at Phoebe's house. She probably would've completely lost her mind if she'd stayed at home day in and day out. She was trying desperately to find a part-time job but nothing had been hiring lately so she was stuck.

Helga stuffed a spoonful of cereal into her mouth and winced at the first door slam from the floor above her.

 _Here we go…_

"Criminy Miriam," Big Bob bellowed in exasperation. "Do you ever stop?"

"Don't turn this around on me, B!" Miriam's slightly nasally voice, at the top of its volume, was not what Helga wanted to hear first thing in the morning. "I ask for one simple thing and you can't handle it!"

"'Cause you won't leave me alone, woman!" Big Bob thundered down the staircase. He worked at the store every other weekend which explained why he was dressed in a button down and dress pants. While he was no longer the "Beeper" King, he still had the upper-hand on electronics sales in this part of town.

"I deserve respect, Bob," Miriam said sternly from the top of the stairs and Bob mockingly made faces as if impersonating her. "That is the kind of shit I'm talking about!" Miriam followed him down the stairs and Helga couldn't help but imagine her mother as an indignant little Chihuahua.

"You really wanna do this right now, Miriam?" Big Bob turned and stared her down. "I've got a store to run. A store that puts a roof over _your_ head,"

"And you always throw that in my face, don't you?" Miriam scathed. "For years, you've been the big _man_ of the house," Miriam made air quotes. "Yet the one time I start working and am actually enjoying myself, you can't handle not being the bread-winner,"

" _YOU DECIDED TO STOP_!" Big Bob bellowed in her face, his patience clearly running thin.

"Well, maybe I didn't want to!" Miriam countered. "Maybe I want to do something else with my life than clean up after _you!_ "

Big Bob chuckled coldly. "Good luck with that,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Miriam retorted, her brow furrowed and her gaze icy behind wire-rimmed glasses.

All the while, Helga stared down at the counter in front of her. Her gaze set and her brow furrowed. She tried to block out their fighting but it was like she could never escape it. They followed each other around the house, screaming and yelling and sometimes her mother ended up crying.

She gripped the glass of orange juice in her hand tightly, not realizing she was doing so, as she stared at its meniscus and studied the way the light from the kitchen bounced off the glass.

Big Bob shook his head, "You really think you can do a better job supporting this family than I can?" He growled. "Almost thirty _fucking_ years I've been breaking my back to pay for _you,_ and _the kids_ , and picking you up off the _goddamn floor_ ," His eyes narrowed. "You really think you could handle the responsibility it takes to keep this household from falling apart?"

Helga didn't register what her mom was saying as she started to respond. All she could hear was the nasally, high-pitched voice of an angry woman and something boiled up inside of her. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Would you guys shut _up!?"_ Helga screamed, unconsciously raising her glass and slamming it down on the counter, causing it to shatter in her hand.

Immediately, her parents' attention was on her and she wanted the floor to swallow her up and take her somewhere else. "Who the hell do you think you are talking to, little lady?" Big Bob's hard glare was on her now and she was only half paying attention to the fact her hand was starting to bleed.

Helga pushed herself away from the counter, grabbing her phone, and stormed past them into the foyer. "I can't take this shit anymore," She muttered loud enough for them to hear her as she swung the front door open and pulled it behind her with a harsh slam.

She didn't pick a destination – she just started walking down the sidewalk with no aim other than to get away from her house. Her hands were shaking as she furiously dialed Phoebe's cell phone number, waiting impatiently as it rang and rang. There was no answer and Helga waited impatiently through Phoebe's outgoing message before leaving a voicemail.

"Fuck, Phoebe," Helga's voice started angry but softened immediately. "They're at it again and I just can't stand to be around them anymore," Helga kicked at pebbles on the sidewalk in front of her that had been dislodged from crumbling corners of the pavement. "It'd be really great if you could pick up the phone or if I could come over… y'know, clear my head and all that crap," Helga huffed as she passed through the archway leading into the park. "Anyway, call me back. Bye,"

She hung up and kept walking. A small bridge over a little creek was her favorite spot to blow off steam and think. She passed by parents swinging their toddlers on the playground and groups of kids playing football in the grass. While her home life had always been crappy, she almost longed for those days when she was a kid. As crappy as they had been, somehow they seemed better than they were now. Or maybe that was an illusion. The grass is greener, hindsight is 20/20, and all those other crappy clichés about wanting what you don't have and realizing it after the fact.

Helga rested her weight against the bridge railing and stared down at the water below. Something about the movement of the water, the slight rippling effect when a fish would almost breach the surface, was calming and could mesmerize her into forgetting about whatever had led her to that spot in the first place.

The sound of footsteps behind her pulled her from her daydreams and her breath hitched with the sight of a familiar face.

"What are you doing here, Football-head?" Helga asked, though her voice had minimal gruffness and more exhaustion than usual.

"I was just taking a walk," Arnold shrugged and walked up beside her, matching her posture against the railing. "Clearing my head, you know?"

Helga didn't respond, despite Arnold searching her face for some hint of a response. "What's up?" He asked softly, hoping to sound casual.

Helga rolled her eyes. Here it was, the Arnold Shortman therapy session. Somehow he always managed to find her when she was weakened by crap going on in her life. Did he sit around and wait until those few moments when her shell cracked and the sensitive, emotionally drained Helga was visible?

Helga sighed and sternly answered, "Nothing,"

Arnold nodded, unbelieving but willing to let her maintain her privacy. He pushed off from the railing. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help," He said as he started walking away.

"Why do you always think you can help?" Helga asked abruptly, though not to be mean. She continued when Arnold turned to face her. "Why is it that you think that somehow, everything in this world can be fixed by _talking_ or that _you_ , specifically, can do something to change anything? Sometimes crappy things are just crappy things and there's nothing you can do about it,"

Arnold shrugged. "You're right," He stepped toward her and looked back out at the water, Helga following his gaze all the while. "Sometimes there isn't anything that can be done but that doesn't mean you stop trying," He patted Helga's hand as it rested on the railing. "Sometimes talking is enough to take the edge off," Helga stared, stunned, at the hand he had touched and didn't lift her gaze even as he started walking away. "See ya later, Helga," He called over his shoulder and Helga cursed him for being right. As usual.

. . . . . . . .

Later that evening, Arnold and Gerald were shooting baskets on the small court between a couple of older buildings down the block. They called it a "court" when they were kids but it was really just a slab of concrete between two old apartment buildings with a weathered basketball hoop surrounded by fencing.

Days were beginning to grow shorter with the change of seasons so even at 6 pm, the streetlights had come on to replace the dwindling light of the sun.

Arnold took a sip of his sports drink, basketball tucked under his arm as Gerald eagerly dug his phone out of his jacket pocket on the bench and began scrolling through messages.

"Who's the lucky girl, this time?" Arnold teased, returning the cap to his drink.

"Man, shut up," Gerald laughed, putting away his phone as the text sent. "I went out with Lauren last night and I'm just, you know, following up,"

"Oh?" Arnold's amused expression earned him a side eye from his friend who smacked the ball out from under his arm, dribbling up to the basket and made a shot.

"Yo, you talk to Helga, right?" Gerald said as he collected the runaway ball and dribbled it between and around his legs.

"Um," Arnold fumbled, caught off-guard. "Here and there but nothing extensive… why?"

"What's the deal with Phoebe?" Gerald asked, continuing to do tricks with the ball.

"Come on, Gerald," Arnold shook his head, sitting his drink down on the ground. "You know as well as I do that Phoebe is not like the other girls you date,"

"Whachu tryin' to say, Arnold?" Gerald asked innocently, abruptly passing the ball to his friend whose reflexes allowed him to catch the ball easily.

"She's smarter," Arnold laughed, dribbling as he moved to the basket, Gerald half-heartedly blocking him. "

"Ouch," Gerald hissed, pretending to be hurt. "For real, though. She's cute,"

"And you liked her back in elementary school," Arnold added, a devious look on his face.

"Man, quit playin' with me," Gerald laughed. "Nobody said all that,"

"Who needs words?" Arnold shrugged and shot the ball, a satisfying _swish_ as it passed through the tattered net.

"Yeah, okay," Gerald said sarcastically as he caught the ball before it bounced away and passed it back to Arnold. "You don't wanna play this game with me,"

"What game?" Arnold asked, moving to make another shot as Gerald blocked, knocking the ball from his hands.

Gerald grabbed the ball, dribbling as he spoke, "Oh, I dunno, how 'bout your masochistic inclination toward a certain blonde-haired-ugly-duckling-turned-swan-but-still-mean-as-hell female?"

"What are you talking about?" Arnold said, dumbfounded, as Gerald easily sank a shot.

Gerald rolled his eyes. "Whatever you wanna call it, Arnold," He retrieved the ball and moved to the other side of the pavement to line up another shot. "Always worried 'bout her, tryin' to solve her problems and shit even though she shuts you down at every turn,"

"Not _every_ time," Arnold replied.

" _See,_ that's what I mean," Gerald nodded at his friend as he watched the ball teeter on the rim before falling out. "You care too much,"

"You're not making any sense, Gerald," Arnold said, no longer thinking about basketball as he followed Gerald across the court to get the ball. "I just try to help. I do that with everyone,"

"Mmm," Gerald hummed, unconvinced. "Yeaaah, but you're different with her. Always have been," He shrugged. "I mean, do you, man but don't try and ride me when you got your own issues to work out," He laughed, tossing the ball to Arnold who tucked it under his arm, brow still furrowed in thought over what Gerald was saying.

"Put it this way," Gerald said as he walked over to the bench with their stuff. "The first thing you wanted to talk about when we got here was how you ran into Helga today and oh, _what's going on with her? Why won't she just tell me what's wrong?_ Blah, blah, blah…"

"So?" Arnold asked, picking up his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder. "It was fresh on my mind,"

" _Hours_ later?" Gerald raised an eyebrow. "You're trippin', man. That's all there is to it,"

"Whatever you say, Gerald," Arnold sighed in resignation.

"Mmmhmm," Gerald hummed. "Ya damn right!" He laughed and the two left the lot, headed home.

. . . . . . . .

Despite her voicemail earlier that day, and a couple texts since then, Helga still hadn't heard back from Phoebe so after dinner, she decided to call the house phone and Phoebe's mom picked up.

"Hi Ms. Reba," Helga said politely. "Is Phoebe around?"

"Oh honey," Phoebe's mom's voice with its warm southern drawl was just as smooth over the phone. "I'm afraid she's not feelin' well. She's been sick just about all day,"

"Oh," Helga replied, disappointed.

"Oh," Helga could hear Phoebe in the background. "Hold on, sweetheart, she says she can talk for a couple minutes,"

Phoebe's mom passed the phone to her daughter who sounded very tired over the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pheebs," Helga said softly. "You're sick?"

"Um, yeah," Phoebe replied, her voice sounding pained. "What's up? I'm sorry I never returned your call earlier – I was just so exhausted…"

"Oh hey," Helga shrugged, smoothing out the folds in the comforter of her bed as she sat cross-legged in the warm light from her side table lamp. "Don't sweat it. Just some of the usual shit, you know how it goes…"

"Yeah," Phoebe said softly. "I'm sorry about that,"

"Hey," Helga said. "Can't say I'm not used to it, right?"

"Still, it's unfortunate," Phoebe offered and Helga didn't respond. "Could you, please do me a favor, Helga?" Phoebe sounded nauseated and Helga hoped she wasn't about to retch into the phone.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I don't think I'm going to be at school Monday so do you mind picking up my homework for me?"

"Damn," Helga responded. "You must be sick if you're not gonna come to school," She chuckled. "Yeah, sure, no problem,"

"Thank you," Phoebe said breathlessly. "I should go,"

"Gotcha," Helga nodded subconsciously. "Feel better, alright?"

"I'm certainly trying. Thanks, Helga" Phoebe replied and the two hung up.

. . . . . . . .

The week came and went. While Helga had remembered to pick up Phoebe's homework that Monday, she'd forgotten to bring it over to Phoebe's house after school, not remembering until 8:30 that night.

The week had been rough for Phoebe as she regained her strength but by Friday, she felt mostly normal despite her anxiety as she waited in her doctor's office with her mother and father.

His desk was of Cherrywood and bookcases of medical and scientific research lined the walls, rendering Phoebe spellbound and in awe. Dr. Patel was a mild man of modest height with no facial hair and a face that communicated compassion and quiet intelligence.

"Good afternoon, Phoebe," He greeted her as he walked over to his desk, setting her file down in front of him and getting comfortable. "Mr. and Mrs. Heyerdahl,"

Phoebe breathed in and out, steadying herself. She'd been thinking about this appointment all day and the distracting nature of it had derailed her focus throughout her classes but now, being here, she wished for nothing but to be back in class where she felt in control and calm.

Dr. Patel opened Phoebe's file and flipped through a couple papers, reviewing his notes, before sitting back in his chair and sighing. "As you know, this last treatment was essentially a last ditch effort,"

Phoebe pursed her lips as her parents nodded.

"There is no easy way to say this," Dr. Patel began and Phoebe could tell he felt uncomfortable but in a way that suggesting he'd had this conversation with other people more than he ever would have liked to. "I'm afraid you've stopped responding to treatment, Phoebe,"

Another breath in, breath out. Phoebe's gaze fixed on her hands in her lap as her parents asked questions.

"Is there another treatment she could try?" Her father questioned.

"At this point, I'm afraid not," Dr. Patel replied. "And I'm not convinced she would have any response other than the unpleasant side effects she's already familiar with post-therapy.

"What can we do then?" Phoebe's mom asked, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep composure. "What are you saying?"

Dr. Patel sighed. "It is my recommendation that we stop treatment. Phoebe's white blood cell count has only deteriorated and I see no benefit to continuing such a rigorous treatment if she isn't showing any signs of improvement,"

"It's the same thing he said at the last appointment, Reba," Phoebe's dad said grimly.

"So you're saying there isn't anything we can do?" Phoebe's mom blinked and a couple tears escaped her eyes.

"I wish I had an alternative for you," Dr. Patel said gently. "But in this case, the cancer is more aggressive than any treatment we can offer. And I wouldn't want to put her through such an uncomfortable and painful treatment that I wasn't confident would do anything to help,"

Phoebe's mom nodded, taking in a deep breath as her husband wrapped one arm around her and his other hand found Phoebe's shoulder, squeezing it.

"How long?" Phoebe spoke up, lifting a stoic gaze to her doctor's face.

Dr. Patel paused. "Perhaps a year," he said. "Give or take,"


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N: I'm on a writing roll! If only there weren't real life responsibilities getting in the way of me having time and motivation all the time! Sigh... but such is life. XD anywhoo, I hope you guys like this update. Thank you to those of you who have commented and read and shared this story! It's so exciting hearing your thoughts. :)**

 **D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold!]**

The ride home from the doctor's office was an eerie kind of quiet. Neither of Phoebe's parents knew what to say and Phoebe was lost deeply within her own thoughts. All three of them needed to process the information they'd just received. They'd been prepared to hear such news, as Dr. Patel had warned them at the last few appointments when Phoebe's progress had significantly slowed. However, their fears becoming a reality still felt somehow like one of the bad dreams they'd had over the past year and a half since Phoebe had first been diagnosed.

As Phoebe's dad parked the car on the side of the street by their house, Phoebe's mom finally broke the silence.

"I think now would be a good time to tell Helga, sweetheart," She said gently as she unbuckled herself from her seat.

"No," Phoebe said absent-mindedly. "Not yet,"

"Phoebe, she's gonna find out at some point," Reba reasoned. "And don't you think you oughta have your best girl friend there for you through this, too?"

 _Ha… that's a good one._ Phoebe thought grimly. _I'm not ready to find out how Helga would disappoint me in this situation._

"I'm not ready to tell anyone," Phoebe replied. "Mother, please, we've talked about this,"

"I know, baby, but –"

"I'll tell my friends when I'm ready!" Phoebe suddenly came fully out of the daze she'd been in for the duration of the car ride. "When I can't go to school anymore or do my homework or get out of bed. When it's obvious something is wrong, then perhaps I will tell my friends but until that point, I see no value in suffering through the pity and odd looks of my classmates as my body slowly deteriorates!"

Phoebe's mother's face looked pained and her dad finally spoke up. "Phoebe, you're being hysterical,"

"No, I'm not," she said more calmly. "It's the truth. We've known this could very well end up being the result for a year and a half now. We've done all feasible treatments… I just, I just want to handle the rest of it on my own terms," She said politely but sternly. "Please, Father,"

Kyo's face softened as he looked at his daughter through the rearview mirror, lifting his glasses to pinch the skin between his eyes. "If that is your wish,"

Phoebe's mom pursed her lips, still disagreeing but no longer emotionally ready to have a conversation about her daughter's failing health.

"Thank you," Phoebe said quietly, nodding at her father's reflection, before getting out of the car and going into the house.

. . . . . . . .

The weeks went by and it was almost as if nothing was wrong. Phoebe resumed her normal activities – for all intents and purposes, she felt like herself. She had less energy than usual but she was never the most active person anyway so it didn't interfere with her routine.

By mid-October, everyone at school was obsessed with the Homecoming dance coming up. Phoebe and Helga had already agreed to go together and meet up with other girls in their class which was primarily Phoebe's doing, as Helga and many of the other girls had been reluctant. Though Helga had become less of a bully, she was still just as sharp-tongued, rude, and brash as she'd always been.

On the day of the dance, Phoebe and Helga were getting ready at Helga's house. Big Bob was working at the store so there was no chance of having to endure any arguments between her parents. When Miriam was home and Bob wasn't around, she was actually somewhat enjoyable to be around, though she still kept to herself, watching soap operas on the bed in her room.

Helga was scrutinizing herself in the full-length mirror propped up against her closet door as Phoebe sat at Helga's desk applying her make-up with a stand-up, magnified mirror.

"This is so weird," Helga mumbled, frowning at her reflection as she turned around, checking herself out from different angles.

"It's a dress," Phoebe said simply as she applied her mascara. "You've worn a dress most of your life,"

"Not like this, though," Helga countered. "And I didn't exactly have all of _this_ to deal with back then," She motioned to herself, up and down, acknowledging the curves she had developed over the years. "I look like a hooker,"

Phoebe turned and looked at her friend, laughing a bit. "You do not look like a hooker, Helga," She smiled, shaking her head. "Now, remember the time when we were in fourth grade and you 'dressed up' to crash Rhonda's slumber party? _Then,_ you looked like a hooker. But now? I don't think so," She grinned devilishly as she returned the mascara wand to its tube.

"Har har," Helga rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You're so _funny,_ Pheebs,"

"I do my best," Phoebe grinned and Helga shook her head, returning her attention to the mirror.

"Really, though," Helga said. "I don't know why I let you convince me to buy this," She smoothed out her dress as if smoothing out the fabric could somehow make her hips less apparent.

"Oh, stop," Phoebe said. "It looks good on you. You can't wear torn up jeans and a band T-shirt to a dance, Helga!"

"But, _why not?"_ She pretended to whine, then threw her hands up in the air. "Okay, I give up. I'm just not gonna look at myself and maybe I'll feel less awkward if I'm blissfully unaware,"

"Good luck with that," Phoebe teased.

"You're _snarky_ tonight," Helga turned to her friend, placing a hand to her chest in mock surprise.

"I suppose I've picked up a few things from you over the years," Phoebe shot back as she primped her make-up in the mirror, gauging whether she wanted to add or adjust anything.

"Thank goodness," Helga retorted. "You know the world could use more of me,"

Phoebe simply responded with a hard " _Ha!"_

Still eyeing herself in the mirror, Helga lifted her hair up from her neck, trying to decide what she should do. She had never been the girly type that intuitively knew what hairstyles would look good or how she should do her make-up or what kinds of clothes flattered her best. That's why she'd taken Phoebe along with her on her trip to the mall to pick out a dress in the first place. It was pink, her signature color, strapless, and had rhinestones all over the bodice that gradually decreased in number as they went down to the hem of her dress. The bottom barely reached her knees since she as a little taller than the average girl and instead, the ruffling edges of the bottom of her dress flared just a few inches above her kneecaps. Because of the different lengths of the hem, however, she doubted she would receive any flak from the administration about 'dress code violations'. No, she was more concerned with the way the chiffon dress hugged her mid-section, clearly accentuating her hourglass figure that she usually hid behind graphic band T-shirts and oversized plaid flannels. She smirked at the memory of the day Arnold had complimented her on one of them back in middle school. She'd brushed off his compliment, naturally, but that didn't stop her from wearing them. They were comfortable, they fit her new style, and she avoided boys' gawking stares when she wore them so that settled that.

"How are you going to do your hair?" Phoebe inquired, her own hair pulled up into a tight bun with loose curls framing her face in a few spots. Phoebe was pretty much ready at this point. Unlike Helga, Phoebe was comfortable wearing pretty dresses and had spent little time getting dressed, pulling her hair up, and applying her make-up. By this point, it was a routine she was comfortable with.

Phoebe's dress had thin straps at the top, a sweetheart neckline, and faded from light blue at the top to a dark blue at the bottom. The dress cinched at Phoebe's waist and then flared out to her knees – the kind of dress that would be perfect for dancing and spinning around in.

"I'm lost, Phoebe," Helga sighed in defeat as she pulled on her long, blonde hair. She never usually did much with it aside from ponytails and the occasional low pigtails. Other than that, she'd often part it to the side and spend the day pushing her out of her face before getting frustrated and putting it up in a ponytail again.

"Here, I have any idea," Phoebe said, standing up but her head suddenly felt heavy and she wobbled a bit. The floor seemed to get farther away and she braced herself against the desk as she gathered herself.

"Hey, whoa, whoa!" Helga immediately jumped to steady her friend. "Are you okay? Sit back down. Here," She guided Phoebe back into the desk chair. "What was that? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Phoebe brushed her off, focusing on her breathing and willing her lightheadedness away. "I'm fine,"

"Do you need something? To eat, or drink, or something?" Helga asked and Phoebe meekly nodded.

"That would be nice," She said. "Thank you,"

"Be right back," Helga said and left the room to fetch something from the kitchen.

Phoebe rested her arms against the desk and peeked at her reflection in the mirror. She was somewhat pale but otherwise appeared normal. Her eyes detracted from any unwell appearance. She was wearing contacts so her make-up was especially powerful, making her eyes pop behind the mascara and smokey eyeliner.

Helga returned moments later with an individually wrapped cheese stick and a glass of water. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Phoebe said, trying to make herself sound light-hearted. "I probably just didn't eat enough today," She chuckled lightly. "Being so excited for the dance, you know?"

"Right," Helga said, still wary of her friend's condition. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Helga," Phoebe admonished lightly. "Stop worrying about me," She unwrapped her cheese stick and took a bite. "So what are you going to do with your hair?"

Helga paused at the sudden transition but decided to go with it. "Hell if I know," She shrugged.

"I think," Phoebe said, taking a sip of water. "You should curl it over to one side. You have the length for it,"

"Curl it to one side?" Helga asked quizzically, staring at herself in the mirror and awkwardly moving her hair over. "Like… this? Wh… what the heck do you mean, Phoebe?"

Phoebe sighed, smiling. "Curl it, then we'll pin it over to one side so the curls are resting on your shoulder,"

"Okay," Helga shrugged. She certainly didn't have any better ideas.

. . . . . . . .

The gym was decorated with light blue, black, and white balloons and streamers – the school colors. Dozens of tables lined either side of the large room with cheap plastic tablecloths in alternating colors. Toward the entrance to the gym was a row of tables with snacks and beverages while the DJ was set up on the opposite end.

Arnold had decided to come to Homecoming alone since most of his guy friends were bringing dates. Gerald had a sophomore named Brandy on his arm that he'd been dating the past week or so. Arnold wasn't sure how Sid and Stinky had managed to get dates and he didn't recognize them either. Harold had come on his own but was hanging out with the other guys on the football team, ranting and raving about the game the evening before.

"So what's your plan, Arnold?" Gerald said to his friend after his date had left the table to go to the bathroom. "You're stag tonight so you got the pick of the night!"

Arnold laughed. "There is no plan, Gerald. I'm just here to have fun,"

" _Exactly_ what I'm saying!" Gerald gave him a pointed look. "Mmm, mmm, mmm!" He said, shaking his head as he looked out to the dance floor where dozens of girls were dancing. "Hillwood High brought out its _finest_ tonight!"

Arnold relaxed in his chair, leaning one arm casually on the table as he watched everyone out on the dance floor. He wasn't really the type to dance solo but that didn't mean he wasn't content to just sit back and talk to the people around him. Maybe he'd dance with someone later but for now, despite Gerald's consistent prompting, he wasn't desperate to find a dance partner. Or anything more than that, for that matter.

"Hi Arnold," A short girl with pale blonde hair approached him and he recognized her from his Biology class a couple years ago.

"Hey Emily," He said, smiling politely. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," She had a charming grin and her red dress accentuated her blonde updo quite well. "Do you wanna dance?"

Arnold ignored the overly excited expression on Gerald's face, avoiding eye contact lest he either blush or start laughing. "Sure, Emily," He said, standing up. "Let's go," He offered her his arm and led her out to the middle of the dance floor, well aware of Gerald's eyes on him.

Arnold had never quite picked up any substantial dance moves so he kind of swayed to the beat as Emily moved about around him. The tempo held a moderate pace so it was too fast to slow dance to but not fast enough to warrant anyone going all out. Despite his limited skill set, it was still fun and Emily was a bubbly, spirited girl which made it all the more enjoyable.

As they danced, Arnold had a clear view of the entrance to the gym and noticed when Gerald and his date slipped out of the gym.

 _I wonder where they're go – uh, yeah, on second thought, I probably already know…_

Before this thought had the chance to exit his mind, Arnold noticed a pair of familiar faces enter the gym, albeit quite late. Phoebe's raven hair and short stature were immediately recognizable while Helga's dress and the way her soft blonde hair fell in gentle waves over her shoulder, a long side bang delicately swooping across one side of her face, were immediately electrifying. He tried to focus on Emily, his _current_ dance partner but he had been rendered completely distracted.

When the song ended, Arnold politely thanked a disappointed Emily before quickly moving out of the crowd and looking around at the tables to see where Phoebe and Helga had gone to. Gerald's hand clapping him on the shoulder derailed his search.

"That's what I'm talkin' about, man," Gerald laughed in his friend's ear. "Get 'em,"

"Yeah," Arnold said, only half aware of what Gerald was talking about. "I see you're back," He teased.

Gerald shot him a mischievous look and Arnold simply laughed.

"Yeah, she's hangin' out with some of her girls for a little while now so tell me about the blonde girl? Emma?"

"Her name's Emily," Arnold replied casually. "She and I had a class together a couple years ago. She's nice,"

"Nice…" Gerald nodded, waiting for more. "…And?"

"And I danced with her," Arnold said pointedly. "That's it,"

Gerald slapped a hand to his face before rubbing his temples like a father scolding his son. "What am I gonna do with you, man?"

Arnold shrugged innocently. "Hey, I heard you guys killed in the game last night?"

"Oh yeah!" Gerald said, eagerly accepting the change in topic. "Man, we destroyed them. Those Eastern Tech dudes didn't have a chance,"

"That's awesome," Arnold said, still keeping a watchful eye on the crowd but it was Gerald who noticed Phoebe and Helga first.

"Daaaaaaamn," He said, eyeing Phoebe especially and Arnold could tell.

"You have a date, Gerald," Arnold nudged his friend. "Remember?"

"Yeah, man," Gerald said, brushing him off and never taking his gaze off of Phoebe as she approached the snack table. "But I also have _eyes_ and… damn," He shook his head. "And hey! Your ugly duckling's on her Swan Princess shit, too!"

"Gerald!" Arnold admonished, lightly shoving him again. "Cut it out, would ya?"

Gerald only snickered, watching as Arnold's gaze lingered on Helga. The way the rhinestones in her dress glittered in the light bouncing off the walls. The way that, even from across the room, her blue eyes were hypnotizing amidst whatever combination of make-up products she was wearing. She almost never wore make-up so to see her so done-up was breath-taking. He'd never thought she was ugly or unattractive as Gerald so crudely put it, but he'd never really noticed her in this way before and he knew he was staring but he couldn't help it.

"I rest my case," Gerald said before immediately erupting into laughter, knocking Arnold out of his trance.

"What?" He asked but Gerald continued laughing. " _What?_ "

Gerald bugged his eyes out and impersonated Arnold's staring. "You want some'a that,"

"Gerald…" Arnold said in a warning tone but Gerald wasn't done.

" _Oh, yes,"_ Gerald moaned mockingly, all the while a grin etched on his face. " _Hurt me, Helga baby,"_

"Alright!" Arnold bumped him hard and Gerald stopped his impersonation, his chuckling gradually dying down. "That's enough," Arnold said, looking around. "You know people can see you, right?"

Gerald deadpanned but rather than respond, chose to shake his head and pat his friend on the shoulder, chuckling all the while as he walked over to his date.

When Arnold returned his attention to where the two girls had been standing, Helga was no longer in sight and he caught himself feeling disappointed.

 _Why am I acting like this? I don't even think of her that way._

Before he had the chance to engage in an internal battle with himself, he noticed Phoebe looking a little unstable. Her face was pale and her hand was slipping from its resting place at the snack table. As she wavered, Arnold called out over the loud, thumping music. "Somebody catch her!"

A few people scrambled to soften Phoebe's fall as she passed out and fell to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Helga pushed through the throngs of students in the hall, making her way to the bathroom.

 _Why was he staring at me?_ She thought to herself, slightly panicked but _very_ self-conscious. _I knew I shouldn't have worn this. I can't handle this pressure – what was I thinking? I'm so out of my element here…_

The bathroom was small and crowded with six other girls waiting for stalls while a few primped in front of the mirrors. Helga groaned as soon as she opened the door, immediately feeling claustrophobic in the cramped space.

A toilet flushed and a girl emerged from one of the stalls. Helga pushed her way past a sophomore chatting to the friend next to her and into the stall before the girl could stop her. Not that she would have been successful.

"Hey!" The younger girl shouted as Helga slammed the stall door shut.

Helga sat on the toilet seat and tried to steady her nerves. She studied the pink, glittering fabric of her dress and tried to reconcile how out of place she felt. Did she like how she looked? Of course. Once Phoebe had put the finishing touches on Helga's look, she'd stared at herself in the mirror for a good bit, admiring the transformation. That didn't make it any easier to go out in public and deal with _other people_ seeing her so dolled-up. Something about "looking pretty" made her feel vulnerable. When she wore torn-up clothes and graphic band T-shirts that hid her figure, it fit the gruff demeanor she presented. However, a more delicate look like this? That left her feeling exposed, less intimidating, and therefore, vulnerable.

. . . . . . . .

Arnold was at Phoebe's side in seconds and several people nearby had noticed the petite girl go down; however, with the thumping music filling the room, most of the crowd was unaware of the fall. One of the history teachers, Ms. Briscoe, rushed over and cradled Phoebe's head in her lap as she talked to her.

"Hey sweetie," She said loudly as she assessed whether or not Phoebe was breathing. Ms. Briscoe gently set Phoebe's head down as Arnold knelt beside her, the crowd around them backing up to form a circle around the spectacle.

"Phoebe!" Arnold called her name loudly, trying to get her attention as she wavered in and out of consciousness.

"Let's get her feet up," Ms. Briscoe said to Arnold as she adjusted Phoebe so she was lying flat on her back. One of the girls standing by handed a large purse to the teacher who then proceeded to slip it under Phoebe's feet, elevating her slightly.

"Phoebe," Ms. Briscoe moved so that her face was close to Phoebe's as she gently tapped Phoebe's cheek. "Phoebe, can you hear me? Wake up, honey,"

Phoebe's eyes fluttered and she slowly seemed to revive, her cheeks reddening as she realized she was surrounded by staring, curious eyes.

"Oh," She murmured softly and Arnold simply watched, still very concerned but his adrenaline slowly subsiding. "Oh dear,"

"Phoebe, are you alright?" Arnold asked softly as Ms. Briscoe supported Phoebe as she slowly attempted to sit upright.

"Not too fast," The teacher cautioned as Phoebe pulled herself into a sitting position, tucking her legs underneath her in modesty. "She's alright," Ms. Briscoe said to the onlookers around them. "Go back to what you were doing,"

"I can't believe…" Phoebe started but the sentence lost momentum in her mouth, her lungs too tired to carry the words. She sighed.

"Has this ever happened before?" Ms. Briscoe asked.

Phoebe bit her lip. She desperately wanted the spotlight off of her.

"Um, no," Phoebe shook her head and the movement made her feel dizzy, her head throbbing with the beat of her heart. "I-I must not have eaten enough today,"

This excuse seemed to work as Ms. Briscoe stood up and began collecting snacks from the table behind them.

"How are you feeling?" Arnold asked. "Do you need a ride home? I can ask Gerald—"

"No," Phoebe waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about me, Arnold. I'm fine,"

Arnold wasn't convinced but he watched as Phoebe gladly accepted the bag of pretzels and bottle of water Ms. Briscoe handed to her.

"Maybe we should let you rest down at the nurse's office," Ms. Briscoe suggested, still wary of Phoebe's condition though she was sitting upright and alert once again.

"No, that won't be necessary, but thank you," Phoebe smiled at the perplexed woman as she began to move to stand. Arnold immediately put an arm around her waist to steady her and help her rise.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Arnold asked.

"I'm fine, Arnold," Phoebe said adamantly before turning to Ms. Briscoe. "Thank you so much," She said pleasantly before turning around with Arnold still supporting her. The crowd around them had dissipated and only a few pairs of eyes lingered on her.

"Do you wanna sit down?" Arnold asked, gesturing to a nearby table with his free hand.

The combination of standing and moving, coupled with the body heat in the inadequately ventilated room, was making Phoebe feel light-headed again.

"Could we go outside?" She asked weakly, still fighting to appear mostly normal. "Some air would be refreshing,"

"Sure," Arnold nodded hesitantly and led her to an infrequently used side door that led out to the parking lot behind the building.

. . . . . . . .

After gathering her composure, Helga eventually emerged from the girls' bathroom and made her way back down the hall to the gym. She'd been kind of abrupt in leaving Phoebe after noticing Arnold staring. How could she not be? His eyes on her made her feel _way_ out of control and if there was anything that made Helga more uncomfortable than make-up, curled hair, and a glittering dress, it was Arnold's eyes on her. Something about the weird combination of her heart fluttering, her nerves jumping, and a warm sensation in her belly made her a little uneasy.

As she entered the gym, she made her way to the snack table where she'd left Phoebe but her friend was nowhere to be found.

 _What the heck?_

. . . . . . . .

There was a small garden with a few scattered saplings and a concrete bench that students often congregated around in the hour before first bell every morning. With the crisp chill of fall, the garden had turned brown and the young trees were barren in preparation for winter.

Arnold guided Phoebe to the bench and she sat down in a relieved sigh. A sharp wind whipped past and Phoebe shivered.

"It's kind of cold out," Arnold commented. "Do you want to go back in?"

"Not yet," Phoebe gently shook her head and rested her forearms across her lap, her forehead balanced on her knees as she relaxed.

Arnold looked around. The sky was almost black with only a few scattered clouds drifting by. Despite the city lights surrounding them, he could faintly make out some far off stars twinkling in the light of a crescent moon. The parking lot was a stark contrast to the crowded energy in the gym – only a couple other small groups had ventured outside and most of them hovered around the gym entrance. A few students had slipped behind the other side of the building to smoke and the scent wafted on the breeze as it blew decaying leaves across the pavement like tumbleweeds.

"You don't have to stay out here, Arnold," Phoebe said, her expression almost normal. She really didn't want this attention right now. "I'll be back in shortly,"

"I don't think I should leave you alone right now, Phoebe," Arnold shrugged, his thin dress shirt provided little protection from the chill but he fought the urge to shiver. He wondered how on earth Phoebe wasn't frozen in her dress. "…Are you sure you're okay?" He eyed her suspiciously. Despite having finished the small bag of pretzels Ms. Briscoe had given her, she still seemed a little off as she nursed the bottle of water cradled in her lap.

"Positive," She smiled broadly but her eyes betrayed her. Arnold's suspicion lingered.

"You know," He said as he sat down on the bench next to her. "You can talk to me if there's something going on. I wouldn't tell anyone, if that's what you're afraid of?"

Phoebe pursed her lips, inside screaming at him to just go away but still understanding that he only wanted to help. "There's nothing to tell,"

Arnold just stared at her. He was usually pretty good at reading people and as he studied her expression, something seemed off. He wanted to believe her but he couldn't shake his concern. She'd passed out cold in the middle of the dance. Anyone would be concerned, right?

"You know, I think I'm ready to head back inside, if you don't mind," Phoebe said, moving to stand.

Arnold sighed, disappointed in the lack of answers but relenting. He stood and offered her a hand standing up. They began walking back to the doors when Phoebe's weakened legs buckled and she stumbled, her weight supported by Arnold as he kept her from falling.

"Okay!" Arnold exclaimed, leading her back to the bench. "You're not alright. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you really don't want to but please stop pretending that everything is normal,"

"I tripped, Arnold!" Phoebe replied just as emphatically. "I appreciate your concern but there is nothing—"

"Come _on,_ Phoebe," Arnold groaned impatiently, his hands on his hips as her admonished her. "You're obviously not okay but you're also being really _weird_ about it, too," Phoebe was quiet, staring at her lap, and Arnold added more gently, "If you need to go home, just let me and Gerald give you a ride," He sat down next to her again. "It's really not a big deal…"

Phoebe inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as they sat quietly. She was hesitant to try and stand up again – she didn't need that embarrassment anymore tonight. Other than her light-headedness and mild weakness, she felt normal which made her predicament all the more frustrating. She sighed, embarrassed and exhausted as her resolve to pretend was slowly breaking down.

"It's a private matter," Phoebe said quietly. "I'd prefer not to discuss it,"

Arnold sighed, "Alright," He shrugged. "I'm sorry I pushed you on it. You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable talking about," He stood up and offered her his hand once again. "But I do think you should let us give you a ride home. Whatever's going on, I think you should probably take it easy,"

Phoebe accepted his hand and stood up slowly. "Okay," She said quietly and they made their way back into the gym.

. . . . . . . .

Helga quirked her head in confusion as she saw Phoebe enter the gym with Arnold close behind.

"Hey…" Helga said warily as she approached them. What was Phoebe doing outside with Arnold?

"Hey Helga," Phoebe greeted her friend with a weak smile, immediately aware of Helga's concern. "I'm not feeling well so Arnold and Gerald are going to give me a ride home. Do you need a ride, too?"

"Oh," Helga said, taken aback. "Um…" She looked around. She may have been out of her comfort zone but she still hesitated to leave so early. "Yeah, I guess I do," Helga forced herself to make eye contact with Arnold, a tough façade to disguise her re-emerging self-consciousness. "You think Tall Hair Boy will mind?"

Arnold shrugged without breaking eye contact. "Um, probably not but I'll check," He guided Phoebe over to a table and leaned in to whisper into Helga's ear, unknowingly eliciting a chill from the blonde-haired girl. "She passed out and she's not steady. Don't let her try and get up or do anything on her own," Before Helga could ask any questions, Arnold disappeared into the crowd to look for Gerald.

"The hell?" Helga turned to Phoebe who was watching her peers dancing out in the middle of the gym. "You passed out, Pheebs?"

"Oh," Phoebe startled. "Um, yes. It was nothing, just a bit light-headed," She forced a chuckle. "Arnold convinced me to go home and rest but I'm quite certain it's just a minor drop in blood pressure. Perhaps my electrolytes are low…"

Helga squinted her eyes incredulously at her friend before shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "If you say so…" She rested her weight on one foot, crossing her arms as Arnold and Gerald approached from the side of the gym.

"Hey, you okay?" Gerald asked Phoebe as soon as they were within earshot and her cheeks turned pink at his concern.

"Yes, I'm fine," Phoebe gave a small smile.

"So I'm dropping both of you off?" Gerald asked.

"If you don't mind," Phoebe's small voice was bashful and endearing.

"No sweat," He gestured to the door with his head before offering Phoebe a hand. "C'mon, let's go,"

The four walked out of the side entrance and through the parking lot to Gerald's car. Halfway across the lot, Helga stopped to step out of her heels and Arnold immediately noticed her pause.

"You alright?" He stopped walking and turned, asking the question before even seeing what she was doing.

"I'm fine, Football-head," Helga said, stepping out of her other shoe and padding across the parking lot in her bare feet, her heels dangling from her hand at her side. "I just needed to get out of these things,"

"Oh," Arnold said, picking up his pace again as Helga caught up. Gerald and Phoebe were already almost to his car and Arnold could only imagine how much Gerald was loving the opportunity to have his arm around an unsuspecting Phoebe.

"You um," Arnold started when he realized his gaze had lingered on the heels in her hand for too long not to make a comment. "They look good on you… you um, wear them well,"

"Uh, thanks," Helga replied, her voice heavy with uncertainty as she inwardly panicked. _What do I say? Do I say anything? Why is he looking at me? Stop looking at me!_ "Maybe I'll let you borrow them sometime," She chortled. _Very smooth. Emasculation is the key to romance. Criminy…_

"Um, that's okay," Arnold managed an uncomfortable chuckle and the two remained quiet until they got to Gerald's car.

"Would y'all hurry up or are you sight-seeing in the damn parking lot?" Gerald said, his forearms resting on the roof of his car and one foot propped up on the inside of his car, the driver's side door ajar. Phoebe was sitting comfortably in the front seat.

"We're comin'," Helga said sarcastically. "Don't get your panties in a twist,"

Gerald narrowed his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. "When we get to your house, Pataki, you better tuck and roll,"

Helga snorted and said, "Yeah, _okay_ ,"

The four made idle chit chat as Gerald drove to Phoebe's house. She only lived a few blocks away so the commute wasn't very long aside from the red lights. As he pulled up in front of Phoebe's house, Helga unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Do you need help getting inside?" Gerald asked as he cut off the engine.

"Uh—" Phoebe stammered, barely able to look him in the eye. The short distance between them was a little overwhelming. "Sure,"

"Do you want the front seat?" Arnold asked Helga as Gerald got out and walked around to Phoebe's door.

What was it about him that was so damn magical? She shrugged, carefully avoiding eye contact as she muttered a "Sure, why not," and hopped out of the car. Even from the front seat she'd be able to smell the subtle cologne on his skin and hear the velvety warmth of his voice but without being able to see him, maybe she'd be able to relax her nerves.

Helga stopped outside of the seat Phoebe had just exited from. "I'll call you later, Pheebs," Helga called up the stoop as Gerald stood behind Phoebe, watching her as she fumbled with her keys.

"Okay, Helga," Phoebe said absent-mindedly, her focus obviously elsewhere as she was immensely distracted by the fact that Gerald was only inches away from her. Even if she hadn't been feeling unwell to begin with, she had no doubt she'd be light-headed at this moment regardless.

Helga plopped in the front passenger seat and pulled the door closed behind her. She could see Arnold in the side mirror and had to force herself to stop stealing glances at his reflection.

"I hope she's alright," Arnold said as they watched Phoebe enter her house and close the door.

"I'm sure she's fine," Helga said, seemingly brushing it off. "She wasn't feeling too hot before the dance. She's probably just catching the flu or something,"

Arnold didn't argue, though he wasn't so certain that was the case, especially after Phoebe had come quite close to disclosing the cause of her condition.

The car ride to Helga's house was quiet aside from a brief quarrel between Helga and Gerald about the radio station. When they pulled up in front of her brownstone, Arnold got out of the backseat.

To Helga's surprise, he opened her door in what seemed to be a gentlemanly gesture. _He probably just wants me to hurry up so he can get in and take this seat._

Helga gathered her things, her feet still bare and her heels in hand once again, as she exited the car. "Thanks for the ride, Tall Hair Boy," She said casually over her shoulder to which Gerald wordlessly waved at her back.

Helga stepped up on the curb and Arnold leaned against the door, watching her as she ascended her stoop.

"What are you looking at?" She turned around accusingly.

"I'm just watching to make sure you get in alright," Arnold shrugged innocently.

Helga's brow furrowed but she didn't say anything. The door was unlocked when she turned the knob and she stole a final, brief glance back at the car. Arnold waved, smiling, and Helga awkwardly nodded and ducked into the house.

Gerald was barely stifling a laugh as Arnold settled into the passenger seat and pulled his door closed.

"What?"

"Man, you're so obvious," Gerald shook his head as he pulled away from the curb.

Arnold rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Obvious, _and_ oblivious," Gerald added as they slowed to a stop at a red light. "So did you want to go home, too or are we going back?"

Arnold shrugged as he looked out the window. It wasn't terribly late so there were still a decent amount of people walking around – coming to and from bars and restaurants, closing up their businesses, or just otherwise enjoying the crisp, clear night.

"It doesn't matter to me," Arnold said, pausing before asking, "I assume Brandy is expecting you to come back, right?"

"Shit!" Gerald hissed.

"What?" Arnold asked, already knowing the answer. "…You didn't tell her we left, did you?"

"Ehh…"

"Okay, so we're going back," Arnold laughed, shaking his head.

 **[A/N: Not the most exciting chapter but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless! This was one of those keep-the-plot-moving kinds of chapters, I suppose. More drama to come! Please R &R. Thanks for the love! :)]**


	5. Chapter 5

**[A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for your reviews! I hope you like this next chapter. :)]**

Fall seemed to pass by in a flurry of fallen leaves, hooded sweatshirts, first quarter exams, and pumpkin pie. It always passed by so quickly, much to Phoebe's dismay as it was her favorite season. A blip in time, transitioning between the unforgiving heat of summer and the ruthless cold of winter. Her doctor had prescribed a new medication that helped her deal with the light-headedness more easily and since then, she'd been able to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Life went on.

Winter break had already come and gone, along with the holidays that accompanied it. Phoebe was paying attention to everything a little more carefully these days. The twinkling lights of a Christmas tree, the scent of pine that lingered in the house even after her father had dragged the dying fir out to the street. They had yet to see the first snowfall of the season but her breath was a cloud that floated in front of her face like a ghost in the early morning as students stood outside the school waiting for first bell.

With the help of her medication, Phoebe actually felt okay. She was even looking forward to the Winter Dance, hoping for the chance to actually enjoy herself at a school function rather than become ill during it. She and Helga had discussed their plans for getting ready.

"Should we get dressed at your house again?" Phoebe asked from across the aisle as they waited for their first period teacher to enter the classroom.

"Oh _no_ ," Helga shook her head vehemently. "Olga's home and she's just going to beg to help,"

Phoebe furrowed her brow. "Well, that sounds like quite the kind gesture,"

"Yeaaaah," Helga scrunched up her nose and tilted her head side to side. "Not really. Her _oh-so-perfect_ boyfriend dumped her over Christmas break and she's been loafing around the house, moaning and whining ever since. I don't even want to risk the waterworks," Helga explained. " _B-B-Brad and I went to a d-dance one time b-b-b-b-but nowwww,"_ Helga imitated her sister's blubbering cries.

Phoebe stifled a giggle as their teacher walked in. "Point well-taken," She said. "My house should suffice then,"

"Good," Helga nodded in satisfaction.

. . . . . . . .

"Man, this is crazy," Gerald exclaimed at the lunch table as Arnold, Sid, and Harold listened.

"It's not that big a deal, Gerald," Arnold reasoned, resting an elbow against the table top.

Gerald looked at him like he was crazy but continued, "The well has dried up! I can't even… this just ain't right!"

"I've gotta agree with Arnold," Sid said, sipping chocolate milk from a straw. "I mean, we've all gone to dances without dates,"

"Yeah, Gerald," Harold chimed in. "Quit cryin' about it like a girl,"

Gerald glared. "Man, I don't give a shit about some damn _dance_ – it's the _principle_ of it!"

Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, so you don't have a girlfriend right now. Neither do I! _You're gonna live,"_

"You don't get it, man," Gerald shook his head. "It's been _months!"_

"Do you really miss Brandy that much?" Sid asked.

"Naw, Sid," Gerald shot him a slanted look. "But there's a certain thing that I _am_ missing, if you get what I'm sayin',"

Sid's brow furrowed in confusion and he was about to speak but Arnold placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. "Think about it, Sid," He then turned to Gerald and spoke as realization dawned on Sid's face. "Like I said, it's not something to get this worked up over. You can still go to the dance and have fun. _Maybe_ you'll even meet someone you haven't dated already," Sid and Harold snickered.

Gerald bit his lip, "You suck, Arnold," He laughed. "You know that?"

. . . . . . . .

Unsurprisingly, the theme of the Winter Dance was "Snowflakes" and the gym was decorated with mounds of white fluff that supposedly resembled snow while white paper cut-outs of snowflakes hung along the walls. Aside from a change in color scheme and a few decorations, the gym was largely set up in the same manner it always was for school dances. The DJ was always in the same spot, the tables always lined up along the edges, and the snack and beverage tables always sat near the main entrance to the gym. Phoebe relished the familiarity, the predictability of it all, and soaked in every fleeting moment with the idea that she might not see it again.

Getting ready at Phoebe's house had proven to be a smart move as Olga had spent almost the entire day crying tear stains into the Pataki's living room sofa. Helga hadn't even mentioned the dance and instead claimed she was sleeping over at Phoebe's to explain away the large bag of clothes and other items she carried at her side. She cringed at the idea of Olga's red, puffy face, mascara running heavily down her cheeks as she twirled Helga's hair in a curling iron, tears dripping and sizzling on the hot metal.

The girls had taken less time to get ready for this dance as most students put the most energy into Homecoming. They'd still picked out new dresses at the mall the day before and Helga actually liked her dress this time around. It still showed more than she was comfortable with but she didn't feel like she stood out as much. It was a knee-length, strapless black dress with glittering red circular designs all over it. The bottom hem was similar to her Homecoming dress in that it was cut to different lengths, giving it a ruffled look. She'd straightened her thick blonde hair to remove any frizz and parted it to the side. Phoebe's dress was turquoise, chiffon, and strapless, and seemed to wrap around her body before ending mid-calf. Her raven-haired locks were loosely curled and rested gently on her shoulders with the front pinned back and to the side, away from her face.

Phoebe's mom had dropped them off at the school, quietly warning her daughter that if she didn't feel well that she not only come home right away but that she let her mother know. Phoebe nodded obediently, promising to do just that, and the girls walked up to the gym entrance with Helga none the wiser.

Her mind was focused elsewhere. While the thought of it both terrified and excited her, she was hoping to see Arnold when she got inside. She had no reason to think he wouldn't be there but despite her nervousness and awkward tendencies, she even hoped to somehow dance with him. She'd never ask him herself, of course, because that's just not something Helga G. Pataki would do. What would people think? Showing up in a pretty dress was out of character enough but if she started to _behave_ like the other girls in her class? Stupidly twitterpated over some guy… Well, it just didn't serve her image. No, Helga Pataki was tough. Helga Pataki was not someone to be messed with. Some freshmen often whispered rumors amongst themselves about her.

 _"I heard she put a guy in the hospital just by looking at him,"_

 _"Well, I heard she pulled a guy's appendix out… the old-fashioned way!"_

 _"Helga Pataki punched me in the face one time… it was awesome!"_

Helga enjoyed her reputation. It meant privacy, it meant people left her alone. Was it lonely sometimes? Sure. But she had Phoebe and aside from pining over Arnold, she really didn't think she needed anyone else.

. . . . . . . .

Arnold had zoned out of the conversation Gerald was having with him and a few other guys from the football team about ten minutes ago. Gerald didn't have a date to the dance and all he could think about was the fact that there wasn't a pretty girl on his arm tonight and many of the girls at the dance were either exes or friends with Brandy. Or both. He was out of his element and Arnold was getting a little tired of hearing about it. He himself hadn't had a girlfriend in over a year but he was managing quite well.

Arnold watched couples enter the gym, corsages on girls' wrists and their arms linked up with grinning guys who obviously hadn't tied their own ties. Groups of girls came in chattering amongst themselves, laughing and excited as groups of guys hung about the edge of the room, sipping soda from paper cups and talking about the girls that passed by.

He hadn't intended to find her in the crowd but happened to be looking in that direction when Phoebe and Helga entered the dance. The more he caught himself staring, the more he wondered if Gerald's accusations had been right. Okay, so Helga was… pretty… but that didn't mean he liked her. They were friends. Mostly friends. Sort of? Whatever, he didn't actually know but what did it matter? He'd never thought about her that way before, even despite everything they went through years ago when they saved the neighborhood. Why would things change now? He cared about everyone. He wanted to help everyone and he wanted to be friends with everyone. That was all it was. Besides, years had passed. People change, feelings change. There was no way Helga still felt the same way so that settled that. But why did that idea feel heavy in his chest? She was just a friend. A person. A girl that he knew. That he'd known for a very longtime. That he'd been through a lot with. Who sometimes surprised him… and confused him… and helped him… and she was kind of… really pretty… even though she didn't dress like other girls and didn't act like other girls. She was a tomboy that played sports and hocked loogies and was sometimes really, really rude and mean… But he knew that wasn't all there was to her. Sometimes she wore dresses and there were times that it seem like an invisible mask had been lifted and her face became soft and vulnerable. Not often, but sometimes… He wondered if she still wrote poetry…

He hadn't realized how long he'd been staring until Gerald waved a hand in front of him and the rest of the guys at the table laughed.

"You're predictable as shit, Arnold," Gerald laughed and Arnold pinkened the slightest bit. "Helga's here, huh?"

Arnold rolled his eyes and tried to ignore how obviously embarrassed he probably looked. "Sorry, what were you guys talking about?"

"Nothing as important as them _legs_ ," One of Gerald's teammates, Leon, nodded his head toward Helga as she and Phoebe crossed the gym into the crowd.

Arnold groaned, "I wasn't _staring_ at anyone," He insisted. "I was just thinking,"

"I bet I know about what," Another teammate, Adam, snickered into Leon's ear and the two laughed loudly as Arnold narrowed his eyes.

"Calm down, Arnold," Gerald calmed his own chuckling. "We're just messin' with you,"

Arnold gave him a slanted look and stood up. "I'm gonna get a drink,"

"Arnold's a little moody," Leon said to Adam, though just loud enough for Arnold to hear as he walked away.

"Needs to relax," Adam added, laughing as Leon pretend to hump the air. "Better hold those pigtails for balance!" The two erupted into more laughter as Arnold walked away, fists clenched and his face beat-red.

Arnold grumbled to himself as he approached the drink station. There were several half-full two liter bottles of soda and a large metal tub of ice with a scooper resting inside. Arnold served himself a cup of Coke as someone approached from behind. He tried to return the cap to the soda bottle but his fingers slipped and the cap went flying off the table, eliciting a growl from the frustrated teen.

"Criminy, what'd that cap ever do to you?" Helga said sarcastically, smirking as she watched Arnold look around the table for the cap.

"I'm not in the mood, Helga," He said, his voice muffled by the tablecloth as he ducked his head underneath to reach the cap.

"Yeah, well, I'm in the mood for some soda so would you kindly move your ass?" She impatiently tapped her foot, her arms crossed over her chest which, to Arnold's chagrin, pulled down the strapless neckline of her dress quite a bit.

Eyebrows furrowed, Arnold rolled his eyes, stepping aside. "Why can't you just be nice, Helga?"

"What?" She feigned shock, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "I was nice! I asked 'would you _kindly_ move?'"

"My _ass?_ " Arnold shot her a slanted look and Helga gasped.

" _Arnold,_ your _language!"_ She threw her head back as she laughed, her sarcasm driving Arnold crazy but he could only huff and roll his eyes.

Meanwhile, Phoebe was quietly waiting for Helga on the other side of the gym when Gerald sidled up to her.

"Hey Phoebe," His voice was like butter, smooth and warm, and it made her smile involuntarily.

"Hi Gerald," She replied in a small voice, her eyes cast down away from his gaze but acutely aware of his as she took in his appearance. Black dress pants and shiny black dress shoes, a light blue dress shirt with a loosened tie. He smelled of cologne and she tried not to let it go to her head.

"How ya doin' tonight?" He asked, resting his forearm against the wall behind her and bringing them closer. Phoebe bit her cheeks to control her composure and thanked the heavens for the dim lighting in the gym.

"I'm quite well," She chirped. "And yourself?"

His confident gaze bored into her, half-lidded eyes soaking her in. "I'm good," He said smoothly. "You wanna dance?"

"Sure," Phoebe managed in barely a squeak as Gerald led her out onto the dancefloor, his hand resting gently at the small of her back. The discrepancy between this tall guy with strong hands and long fingers against this shorter-than-average girl with such a petite frame was undeniably apparent and Phoebe felt chills up and down her back thinking about his arm around her.

Over at the snack table, Arnold and Helga noticed their best friends dancing together.

"Oh brother," Helga muttered, shaking her head and leaning back against the table as she sipped her soda. "I lost her,"

"What are you talking about?" Arnold asked, still a little annoyed but curious.

Helga grabbed his head and abruptly turned him in the direction of their friends. Phoebe had almost no rhythm but she was cute nonetheless and Gerald didn't seem to mind. His eyes never left her the entire time they danced.

Helga shrugged and turned to refill her cup but Arnold continued to watch. He knew Gerald had liked Phoebe for a long time but at the same time, he also knew that Gerald had developed a bit of a well-deserved reputation lately. Not only did Phoebe not strike him as the type of girl who would put up with Gerald's flirtatious ways but he didn't want to see one of his other friends get hurt by his best friend. Nevermind the fact that he still wondered about what was going on with Phoebe that the rest of them didn't know. Even if she had been normal since Homecoming, he still knew something was up, though she hadn't told him what it was.

His paper cup empty, Arnold became restless. Most of his friends were out dancing and he wasn't like Gerald. He didn't like to "play the field" and pursue pretty girls he didn't even know at events like this. He much preferred hanging out with good friends and dancing with girls he either liked or could have fun conversations with. His eyes slowly snuck over in Helga's direction. She was looking out into the crowd but her face was relaxed. She held her paper cup up to her lips and Arnold couldn't help but stare. When she turned to him, having obviously noticed his eyes on her, he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

"Do you wanna dance?"

"Huh?" Helga startled, dumb-founded.

Arnold rubbed the back of his neck, immediately regretting the words that had come out of his mouth. _Why did I say that? I could have said anything else…_

Helga paused and Arnold flinched under her scrutinizing eyes as she assessed what to make of his question. "Are you serious?" She asked, one eyebrow quirked in suspicion.

"Um," Arnold said, his mouth running on autopilot at this point. "Sure?"

She squinted her eyes then lackadaisically set her empty cup down on the table behind her. "Alright, I guess I have nothing better to do," She reached out a hand for Arnold to take. "Try not to step on my feet, Hair Boy,"

Arnold rolled his eyes as he dutifully took her hand and walked out to the dancefloor with her. The songs had just transitioned and the melody of a slow song immediately mellowed out the mood of the crowd as couples linked up.

 _I'm never gonna hear the end of this…_ Arnold thought to himself as he stiffly placed his hands at Helga's waist, desperately trying to ignore every part of him that told him he was enjoying this.

 _I don't know what it is that you've done to me...  
but it's caused me to act in such a crazy way.  
Whatever it is that you do when you do what you're doing...  
it's a feeling that I want to stay._

 _This is amazing!_ Helga gushed in her head. _Nothing could make this night more perfect… slow-dancing with my love… He's holding me close, he smells so good…_

 _'Cause my heart starts beating triple time,  
with thoughts of loving you on my mind.  
I can't figure out just what to do,  
when the cause and cure is you._

Arnold's heartbeat had quickened but he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or an indication that he was terrified and needed to get out of there. He tried his best to avoid eye contact, their faces dangerously close to one another, but she was just looking at him! She was looking at him and she _wasn't_ scowling. She _wasn't_ criticizing him or laughing at him or… anything like that.

He stole a glance. _Wow, her eyes are really blue…_

 _I get so weak in the knees I can hardly speak.  
I lose all control and something takes over me.  
In a daze, your love's so amazing, it's not a phase.  
I want you to stay with me, by my side.  
I swallow my pride, your love is so sweet.  
It knocks me right off of my feet.  
I can't explain why your loving makes me weak._

Helga was ecstatic, though her muscles were tense with nervous excitement. Thankfully, slow dancing essentially only meant slowly swaying in a circle in close proximity to another person – very little rhythm or skill necessary. She let out a slow breath, trying to take in every moment, even if it would only last three and a half minutes.

 _Time after time after time I've tried to fight it,  
But your love is strong it keeps on holding on.  
Resistance is down when you're around, starts fading.  
In my condition, I don't want to be alone._

Helga took a deep breath, sighing comfortably and Arnold could feel her breath against his neck. The sensation gave him a chill and his own breath hitched for a second.

 _Why…?_ The question fell silent in his head. There was no answer. He couldn't rationalize how he was feeling or even what he was thinking. He didn't understand it but he also wasn't trying too hard. He absent-mindedly rubbed his thumb against her lower back where it rested and the realization of how comfortable this felt was a dull alarm in his head.

 _'Cause my heart starts beating triple time,  
with thoughts of loving you on my mind.  
I can't figure out just what to do,  
when the cause and cure is you._

How had the girl with the unibrow and zero traces of femininity evolved into this person in front of him? As they swayed to another chorus, he realized they'd been silent this whole time. Should he say something? Was it awkward that they hadn't spoken since they started dancing? Would it be weird to start now?

"Do you know this song?" He asked and immediately felt dumb for asking such a random question.

Helga shook her head and replied simply, "No," Her eyes never left his face and the corners of his mouth turned up in an involuntary smile.

"Neither do I," He shrugged and Helga's arms, resting against his shoulders, jostled against his neck. He could feel that she'd laced her fingers together.

 _I try hard to fight it.  
No way can I deny it.  
Your love's so sweet.  
It knocks me off my feet._

Someone entered the gym from the side entrance, bringing in a rush of cold air. Arnold and Helga turned in the direction of the gust of wind to see a thin blanket of snow covering the ground outside as large snowflakes spun and fell through the air.

"I guess the 'Snowflakes' theme fits, huh?" Helga chortled and Arnold begged his mouth to stop smiling but it was like a wire had been disconnected and he couldn't control his face anymore. It betrayed every rational thought left in his mind.

"Yeah," He said, his gaze lingering on the door in a vain attempt at avoiding eye contact. Every time he looked at her, he felt like he was losing control of himself. "It's beautiful," He turned his attention from the door and caught her eyes again. Light reflected off her pale blue irises, the mascara on her lashes making her eyes seem wider, inquisitive, searching. He swallowed, entranced.

 _I get so weak...  
Blood starts racing through my veins  
I get so weak...  
Boy it's something I can't explain.  
I get so weak...  
Something 'bout the way you do  
the things you do ooh ooh, it...  
knocks me right off of my feet,  
off of my feet.  
Can't explain why your loving makes me weak._

As the song came to an end, many of the couples around them slowed to a stop. Some left the dance floor to go check out the snow outside and the consistent bursts of cold air left the gym several degrees chillier than before.

Arnold and Helga slowed to a stop and carefully, slowly removed their arms from one another. Neither of them sure of what to say at that point, avoiding eye contact yet again as reality dawned on them, they took a step back from one another. Helga bit her lip, Arnold rubbed the back of his neck.

"Um," Arnold started, words seeming foreign on his lips.

"Yeah," Helga said dumbly.

"That was fun?"

"Nice," She said at the same time as him.

"I think I'm gonna go check out the snow," Arnold said quickly and Helga nodded.

"Yeah, I'm gonna look for Phoebe,"

"Okay, see ya,"

"See ya,"

The two separated, walking in opposite directions as they both forced their hearts to stop racing.

 **[A/N: The song in this chapter was "Weak" by SWV.**

 **So I intend to go back and forth between AXH and GXP so obviously this chapter was pretty AXH centric XD lol As we progress through the school year, a LOT more is going to happen! Some sad, some fluff, some humor, and ALL that JAZZ! No, but really... sorry if the timing seemed to skip ahead too much. It was necessary though! No need for filler, here. Anywho, let me know what you think! Toodles]**


	6. Chapter 6

Shortly after the Winter Dance, Phoebe developed a bad cold that turned into bronchitis. For anyone else, it could have resolved in a few days but Phoebe's infection lingered for about three weeks. She couldn't come to school and her doctor had advised bedrest because she was at risk for pneumonia. Arnold was planning on taking her math homework to her house that afternoon after school. They shared the same third period math class and their teacher, Mr. Roe, had asked Arnold specifically.

The brief snowfall from the Winter Dance last week had already melted and Arnold was skateboarding through the city on his way to Phoebe's house, her assignments safely secured in the backpack. A warm front had moved into Hillwood which had melted the snow but also made the air a bit more comfortable. Arnold could get away with wearing a thick hoodie but that didn't mean he wasn't looking forward to getting his license. He was almost finished with driver's ed and Grandpa had said that once he got his license, he could take the Packard out whenever he needed it.

Arnold stopped in front of Phoebe's house and flipped his skateboard up into his hands. He tucked the skateboard under one arm as he knocked on the door.

"Oh hello, Arnold," Phoebe's mom greeted him in a sweet, Southern accent.

Arnold could hear coughing in the next room. "Hi Mrs. Heyerdahl," He said politely. "I have Phoebe's homework," He patted his backpack.

"Bless your sweet heart," Phoebe's mom smiled and stepped aside to let Arnold into the foyer. "Now come on in here before you freeze. Your grandmamma let you outta the house with just that sweatshirt on?"

Arnold chuckled. "I'm actually comfortable but thanks," He smiled as he stepped inside and he could smell something rich and savory coming from the kitchen.

"Phoebe darlin'," Her mother called into the next room and peeking around the wall, Arnold could see Phoebe's head resting on a pillow on the couch, the TV in front of her playing some sort of commercial. "Arnold brought your homework for you. Where do you want him to put it?"

Phoebe's head turned and her bed-raggled black hair stood up in odd directions. "Anywhere is fine," She called weakly before a coughing spell set in and Arnold winced at the sound. It sounded like someone dragging a heavy object across pavement.

The steady beeping of a timer going off in the kitchen caught the attention of Phoebe's mom. "That'll be my casserole," She rested a hand on Arnold's shoulder and smiled. "Thank you for bringin' Phoebe her homework, Arnold,"

"Not a problem," Arnold said, slipping out of his backpack to retrieve her assignments as Phoebe's mom trotted into the kitchen.

Phoebe was quietly resting on the couch, her eyes seemingly facing the TV, as Arnold walked in carrying a folder from Mr. Roe.

"Hey Phoebe," He said softly, standing beside the head of the couch. "How are you feeling? You sound awful"

Phoebe slowly turned her head to face him, though she didn't lift it all the way. "I've been better," She sighed and nestled her head against the pillow. "Thank you for bringing that," She said, watching as Arnold placed the folder down on the coffee table in front of her.

"No problem," He followed her gaze to the TV, then looked back at her. A voice in the back of his head whispered suspicions but they were so distant, he didn't immediately pay attention to them. "Well, I hope you get better soon,"

Phoebe was quiet for a moment before softly whispering, "Yeah, me too,"

Arnold was about to turn and get ready to leave when something caught his eye on the end table beside the couch. It was a well-worn pamphlet, something you might see in the waiting room of a doctor's office. Half-buried under magazines but the majority of the title still readable, it read _"Coming to Terms with Terminal Illness"_

Phoebe hadn't seen where his gaze had settled. She was facing the TV, her eyes periodically closing from exhaustion. Arnold's chest felt heavy and he wondered if he should say something or bring it up later or let Phoebe keep her secret. The realization felt like a hot coal in his stomach and he didn't want to believe it. There had to be another explanation. She was just sick like anyone gets sick in the dead of winter. And that thing at Homecoming? It could be literally anything else… right?

"Um," Arnold found his voice, still debating what he wanted to say or ask and how to go about it. "Phoebe?"

"Hmm, yeah?" Phoebe said, seemingly jostled out of a light doze.

"Uh…" He delicately picked up the pamphlet as if it could burn him, his eyes locked onto the blocky letters of the title. "Um, is this _yours?_ "

"Is what mi—" She started to ask as she turned around but her breath caught in her throat when she realized what he'd found. She didn't know what to say, words failed her. She only could stare like a deer caught in headlights.

"Is it?" Arnold asked, his face scrunched up, wanting to not believe. His mind insisting that this was an old pamphlet for a distant relative or that perhaps it'd gotten mixed up with their things by mistake and they'd unknowingly brought it home. It was all ridiculous and unlikely but he hoped.

Phoebe pursed her lips and without words, rested her head back against the pillow, closing her watering eyes.

" _Is it?_ " Arnold insisted, his voice rising in pitch, his eyes wide and desperate with disbelief. "Is… is this what you were talking about at Homecoming?"

"Yes!" Phoebe exclaimed, wanting him to stop talking, wanting him to have never found that pamphlet. She groaned. "Are you happy now? That's the reason,"

"Are you kidding me?" Arnold asked incredulously as he walked around the coffee table to face her. "Happy? Phoebe… what… what do you—"

"Leukemia," She said quietly and sighed. "And before you ask, I was diagnosed about a year and a half ago,"

Arnold ran his hands through his hair, his eyes still wide with shock as he looked around the room, processing this information. "But it's under control, right? Why would you need –"

Phoebe looked at him wistfully and he didn't need to hear the answer. Biting his lip and furrowing his brow to keep calm, he took a deep breath. "Wow…"

"Yeah," Phoebe said, her stoic gaze lifting to the TV where two characters were talking about something but she'd muted the TV when Arnold walked in so they could have been talking about anything for all she knew.

Arnold let out another breath as he forced himself to relax. "Okay," He breathed. "Um… do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?"

Phoebe shook her head. "No, Arnold, but I appreciate you asking," She said. "The only thing I ask is that you refrain from mentioning this to anyone,"

"Does Helga know?" Arnold asked.

Phoebe bit her lip and shook her head.

"Not even Helga?" Arnold's face was incredulous. "She's your best friend,"

"She will also likely have the worst reaction," Phoebe countered. "I don't want anyone to behave differently around me. And I'd prefer to tell people about it in my own time, in my own way,"

Arnold nodded solemnly. "I understand," He said. "I just – I mean, are they doing anything about it? Are you gonna get better? Like, what –"

Phoebe gave the tiniest shake of her head and Arnold immediately halted his questioning.

"Wow," He breathed. "I don't know what to say,"

"You don't have to say anything, Arnold," Phoebe said evenly. "I'll be back in school once this cough subsides,"

Arnold sighed. "I'm sorry I pushed you to tell me what was going on; I shouldn't have done that,"

"Don't worry about it, Arnold," Phoebe said, rolling over into a more comfortable position on her side as she adjusted the throw blanket over her. "Just please, don't tell anyone about this. Not yet,"

Arnold inhaled deeply and nodded, "I promise,"

"Thank you," She said, her eyelids heavy. "And thank you again for bringing my homework. I would walk you out but –"

"No, no," Arnold shook his head emphatically. "Don't worry about it. Just… just rest, okay?"

"Okay," Phoebe said, her eyes already closing again and Arnold quietly slipped out of the room, picking up his backpack and skateboard in the foyer and pulling the front door closed behind him.

The cool air outside was like a splash of cold water on his face. His mind was reeling with this information and it still felt unreal. He had so many questions but now wasn't the time to ask. Phoebe was sick and exhausted and he needed to get his thoughts together. He just couldn't believe it. She may not have been his best friend but he was still a good friend, one of the few remaining people at their school that he'd grown up with in the neighborhood. They never hung out without one or both of their best friends along as well but that didn't soften the shock, even if his emotional reaction surprised him. Well, honestly, the whole situation surprised him.

He skateboarded the rest of the way home, his mind whirring with thoughts and new questions surrounding Phoebe's condition. What exactly was her prognosis? How was Helga going to react? Why hadn't Phoebe told her yet? How was Gerald going to react? What could they do? Anything?

. . . . . . . .

Later that night, Arnold was having trouble falling asleep. He tossed and turned in a bed he'd gradually grown into over the years and flipped the covers off of him in a huff.

None of it seemed right. He couldn't stop thinking about Phoebe being sick and this secret that he'd naively stepped into. Why did he do that? Insisting on hearing the truth when sometimes a secret, a suspicion undetected was better left untouched. He'd done the same thing when he found out about Helga's feeling many years ago. Upon discovering how she'd been helping him through it all, he finally couldn't control the burning curiosity, the desperate need to know. Why? He asked her and she tried to make excuses. He'd heard them all before. He wasn't budging. She was nervous and uncomfortable but he pressed on. Why? She blurts out the truth and it's an ocean wave slamming down on his head at once. His head is spinning. Where is he? What happened? Disoriented and confused. Is there a rewind button on time? Unfortunately not. You reap what you sow. You deal with what you've been given. Or what you've requested.

Arnold stood up and crossed his darkened room, headed downstairs. If he couldn't sleep, his restless body and minded wanted to move.

All of the lights downstairs were off except for one coming from the kitchen. Arnold got to the staircase landing and could see the light was coming from the refrigerator. His grandfather was hunched over, surveying its contents.

"Hey Grandpa," Arnold said, his voice tired but his eyes wide awake as he stepped into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.

"Shortman," Grandpa turned around, surprised. "What are you doing up?"

"I can't sleep," Arnold sighed.

"Somethin's on your mind, isn't it?" Grandpa deduced knowingly.

"Yeah," Arnold rested his elbow on the table, propping his head up in his hand. "But I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it,"

"Is everything okay?" Grandpa's brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah," Arnold said immediately, but then added, "Well, no, not really. But it's not my secret to tell. There's something going on with one of my friends and they don't want me to tell anyone… they want to tell our friends when the time is right for them,"

"But you think those other friends deserve to know," Grandpa finished, almost reading Arnold's mind.

"Well, yeah," Arnold replied. "I mean, it's a big deal. I understand why she— _they_ wanna keep it a secret but at the same time, I don't know if it's fair to our friends,"

"Well, Arnold," Grandpa said, sitting at the table with a rolled up piece of ham in his hand. He took a bite. "If someone trusted you with this information, it's probably best that you respect their wishes. They'll get around to talking about it in their own time, if that's what they wanna do,"

"But what about our other friends?" Arnold asked. "I feel guilty knowing what I do but they're completely unaware. I know it's something they'd want to know about,"

Grandpa sighed, "All you can do is be there for them when they do find out," He said simply. "Until then, you owe it to your friend to honor her trust,"

"I guess you're right," Arnold crossed his arms over the table and slumped down, resting his head against his forearms. "It's just a lot to carry around,"

"Perfectly understandable," Grandpa said as he stood up and began to walk out of the kitchen. He paused in the doorway. "This big, bad secret your friend is carrying around… does it involve raspberries?"

Confused, Arnold sat up. "What? No,"

"Just checking," Grandpa replied, shrugging his shoulders as he disappeared into the next room.

Arnold sighed and slouched down again. He wondered how long Phoebe would keep this secret? What if she waited too long? And even if she didn't, how would Helga react? And Gerald? And everyone at school?

. . . . . . . .

The following day, all Arnold could think about was what he'd learned about Phoebe the day before. He hadn't gotten much sleep and had dozed off at the kitchen table at one point which left his back aching. He'd overslept that morning and got to class just after the beginning of third period Biology – the only class he had with Helga.

Everyone was sitting in different seats when he walked in. He handed his office slip to the teacher, Mrs. Gray, and turned to see one of his classmates in his usual seat.

"Glad you could make it, Arnold," Mrs. Gray, an older woman with coarse grey hair she always wore in a French twist, read the office slip before laying it down on the lab bench at the front of the classroom. "We just partnered up for our next experiment," She turned to the class and called out, "Who still needs a partner?"

Arnold and Mrs. Gray scanned the room, as did many of the students already paired up. Only one person sat alone at one of the benches and, just Arnold's luck, it was Helga Pataki. She reluctantly raised her hand just barely over her head, her face scowling and eyes rolling.

"Perfect," Mrs. Gray motioned for Arnold to go sit down. "You and Helga can work together,"

Arnold made his way to Helga's bench as Mrs. Gray explained what the class would be doing.

"Hey," Arnold greeted her, tired but friendly, as he sat down and positioned his backpack on the floor by his feet.

"Just my luck," Helga muttered without looking at him and he shot her an unamused glance, his eyes narrowing, but she didn't even notice. Man, she was frustrating.

Mrs. Gray explained that this would be a two-part, long-term project that would involve identifying and observing diversity in different plant samples as well as collecting water samples from three separate sources and in class, observing it under a microscope. When they finished, they would write two short lab reports on both parts and turn them in together two weeks from now. After she explained the parameters of the assignment, Mrs. Gray invited the students to discuss with their partners how they would go about collecting their samples.

"Alright Football-head," Helga started right off the bat. "I'm actually doing well in this class so don't go screwing this up, got it?"

Arnold laughed indignantly. "Really, Helga? Every time we work on a science project together, we get an A,"

"Or maybe you mean to say that everytime _you_ work with _me_ on a science project, we get an A," Helga countered smugly.

Arnold's eyes widened incredulously. "Whatever, Helga," He rolled his eyes. "How do you wanna do this?"

"The river, City Lake, and that weird little pond in the woods at the park," Helga answered confidently. "Boom, three water sources,"

"The river's kind of far, don't you think?" Arnold asked. "It's at the edge of town,"

"And your point is?" Helga raised an eyebrow. "Look Bucko, we need three water sources. Unless you want a bottle of Dasani to be our third sample, I don't think you're gonna come up with anything better,"

"Alright, fine," Arnold grumbled, making notes in his notebook. "I should have my license this week anyway so I can drive us out there,"

"Oh-ho-ho," Helga laughed mockingly. "Mr. Fancy. What makes you think I trust you behind the wheel?"

"Do you wanna take a cab all the way out there?" Arnold countered sarcastically.

"Not the point, Football-head," Helga rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," Arnold continued. "Since we'll be at the park anyway, that'd be a great opportunity to collect plant samples. The woods alone will have more variety than we need for this assignment,"

"Works for me," Helga shrugged nonchalantly.

. . . . . . . .

"You're kidding, right?" Gerald laughed. "This is gold!"

Arnold rolled his eyes, shaking his head as his friend took great amusement in learning that he was partnered with Helga on yet another science project. "Would you cut it out?"

"Oh c'mon, Arnold," Gerald grinned, nudging him with his elbow. "You can't tell me you don't see the irony in this. The only thing that would put the cherry on top would be if it was ' _Anatomy and Physiology'_ ," He made a hand gesture that resembled an hour glass.

Arnold groaned. "This is getting old, Gerald…"

"Speaking of cherries –"

"Gerald!" Arnold exclaimed and a few classmates turned to look at the sudden outburst. In a quiet tone, he continued. "Seriously, that's enough,"

Gerald shook his head, barely stifling his laughter as Mr. Buchanan hovered around the desks on the other side of the room where the overzealous young history buffs sat hanging on his every word.

"Alright, alright," Gerald said, putting his hands up in defeat. "But for real, though. Don't tell me you're still in denial,"

"There's nothing to deny, Gerald," Arnold insisted. "She's the same Helga she's always been. Nothing's changed. Nothing's different,"

"Mmmhmm," Gerald gave Arnold an unconvinced once-over. "Whatever you say,"

Relieved at the apparent reprieve from this conversation topic, Arnold relaxed as Gerald continued to talk.

"So what's good with Phoebe?" He asked. "You know when she's coming back?"

Arnold paused at the mention of Phoebe, carefully considering his words. "Um, I'm not sure," He said. "She's pretty sick," _Talk about double-meaning…_ Arnold thought to himself.

"Damn," Gerald shook his head.

Arnold could tell where this was going by the look on Gerald's face. "I don't know if going for Phoebe is such a good idea, Gerald,"

Gerald turned in his seat, his eyebrow raised. "And why not?"

"We already talked about this before," Arnold replied. "She's been our friend since we were kids. She's not like Brandy and Monica and Kim and –"

"Alright, alright, alright!" Gerald said, shushing him. "Maybe that's not all it's about, you ever think of that?"

Arnold deadpanned. "Really?"

" _Really,_ man" Gerald insisted. "Gimme some credit here. I know she's different. Maybe that's why I like her,"

Arnold took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Even if Phoebe wasn't sick, he still would be hesitant to think Gerald pursuing her was a good idea. He could only imagine a lot of drama in a short amount of time.

Gerald, at least for the past few years, didn't take relationships seriously. Everyone knew he flirted with every pretty girl that passed by and that he got around with a lot of them. Arnold just couldn't picture Phoebe being another girl in a long line of others that Gerald had breezed through. Maybe he could have imagined it years ago. They'd obviously liked each other back in elementary school and even acted like they 'dated' but things had changed. People changed and Gerald had developed a bit of a reputation as a 'player'. He still had a good heart and he was a great friend but, from what Arnold had witnessed, not the most reliable or committed of boyfriends. All of that aside, knowing about Phoebe's illness made Arnold feel even more inclined to steer Gerald away from this idea. Not only would it likely be unsuccessful but he couldn't imagine Phoebe going through that kind of pain with everything she was already dealing with. That just wouldn't be fair. And it wouldn't be fair to Gerald to, in the off chance that he actually _meant it_ when he said that Phoebe was different, let him get in too deep with Phoebe right before she… Arnold halted at the thought. He still hadn't wrapped his mind around the prospect of Phoebe not being around anymore. He didn't want to jump to conclusions since she hadn't been detailed in telling him about her prognosis but… why else would someone have a pamphlet about _terminal_ illness?

No, he couldn't imagine Gerald going through that kind of pain either. He wished desperately that he could tell Gerald about Phoebe's condition, or that he somehow knew from some other source. The weight of the secret was driving him crazy and it seemed he could only sit by and helplessly watch. He certainly couldn't control other people's feelings – He could barely control his own.

Thankfully, as Arnold's mind wandered, Gerald had changed the subject and was now talking about basketball. Still, Arnold felt weighed down by the thoughts spinning around in his head.


	7. Chapter 7

There was one thing Helga could always rely on at home and that was that in some way, there would be drama. When Olga was home, her parents were typically in good spirits. Even when Olga was upset about something, like her recent boyfriend issues, her parents would join forces to take care of her, comfort her, and soothe her back into the perfect, perky daughter they knew and loved. However, when Olga was away, it was almost like a light switch would turn on and her parents would realize that they actually couldn't stand each other and, aside from their mutual love and adoration of Olga, didn't have much in common. They'd either argue about everything from Bob leaving messes in the kitchen to Miriam's drinking to whether or not the mail was left on the same table to which it was normally designated.

Olga had gone home a couple days ago and the Pataki household had settled into its normal routine with Bob and Miriam ignoring each other sans a few gripes and quarrels here and there and Helga largely trying to steer clear of both of them.

She was texting Phoebe every day when she was home just to keep her mind off of things. Phoebe couldn't talk on the phone since she coughed a lot… and slept a lot… so texting sufficed. That, and her project with Arnold gave her something to look forward to everyday.

Today was the first day they were going to head over to the park and get started collecting their samples. Spring was already making its way into Hillwood. The air had grown warmer and while some trees were still barren sans hundreds of little buds on their branches, Arnold and Helga were confident they could find enough variety in the plants at the park to do their assignment.

They met at the park by a small play area after school with a two-person swingset and little metal animals on springs that kids would ride like mechanical bulls. It was late afternoon and the park was getting busier by the minute as more kids and families came to spend the rest of their days.

Helga watched as Arnold skated up to her, relishing the few moments she could watch him without it appearing weird. "About time you showed up, Football-head," She said sarcastically, adjusting the backpack on her shoulder.

Arnold gave her an incredulous look. "Cut it out, Helga," He countered. "I saw you walk into the park five minutes ago. I was getting a drink at the fountain," He jerked a thumb over at a metal water fountain several yards away.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Whatever," She said, turning on her heel and stepping off the path in the direction of the woods. "Let's just get to work,"

"Fine by me," Arnold said, smirking at the back of her head as he followed her across the grass.

Teenagers sometimes went back into these woods to drink or get high so Arnold wasn't surprised to see the remnants of broken beer bottles scattered around in the brush. As they climbed through the foliage, pushing past branches and stepping over low-lying bushes, there was a small clearing to one side with a few large rocks that everyone knew was the hot spot for hanging out when you cut school.

Some of the trees surrounding them were still bare, working their way up to regenerating the leaves that covered their unsightly skeletons every summer. Some of the trees were early bloomers with little pink flowers having already bloomed, their petals delicately strewn across the ground beneath the trees' reach.

Helga walked over to one such tree and admired the full blossoming of one of the flowers. Arnold caught himself staring. Something about her surrounded by such natural beauty, the pink petals of the flowers still on the tree forming a halo of sorts around her from where he stood, was breath-taking. The juxtaposition of the soft, delicate blooms around her and her lackadaisical appearance made no difference. He thought the band shirts she wore were cool; however, he still found himself imagining her wearing - instead of a well-worn pair of jeans, over-sized T-shirt, and her hair in a loose ponytail - a long, flowing white dress, her soft blonde hair down and falling over her shoulders as rays of light bounced off of it, making her even more radiant.

"Do you wanna take a picture?" Helga said without looking at him, snapping him out of his daze as she admired the flower in her hand.

"Huh?" Arnold startled. _What is wrong with me?_

"It'd probably last longer," Helga finished sarcastically. "You could keep staring at me like I have three heads or we could actually do the project we came here to do,"

"Oh, right," Arnold said, shaking his head. "Sorry," He mumbled as he walked over to another tree, studying the few leaves on its low-lying branches.

 _What was that about?_ Helga wondered internally as she tossed aside the flower she'd been admiring.

They spent the next half hour or so collecting and comparing different plants - Helga's flowers, different deciduous leaves Arnold had gathered, pine needles from evergreens. Arnold placed them all into small glass mason jars he'd brought from the boarding house, each labeled individually. Helga took a picture of some poison ivy with her phone.

"Oh, hey, Arnold," She said innocuously. "Why don't you grab a sample of that one there?"

Arnold looked at the shiny leaves of the bush she was pointing to. "Very funny. I don't think so," He said, giving her a slanted look as she grinned devilishly.

As they were leaving the woods and walking along the path out of the park, Arnold's skateboard under his arm and both of their backpacks slung over their shoulders, Helga ventured a question.

"So when do you get your license anyway?"

"Well, I take my test on Saturday so we could go to the river later that day?" He replied, glancing over at her. This felt nice. Even despite her teasing, it was light-hearted and they'd actually done well working together today. "Or Sunday, if that's better for you,"

Helga shrugged. "Either should work,"

"Okay," Arnold smiled at her and she fought to keep from blushing. Damn him and his ability to do this to her! "We can plan on Saturday then,"

"Alrighty then…" Helga said casually. The relaxed nature of this conversation was making her feel a little self-conscious. He was right next to her, their hands barely within reach as they swishing back and forth with their pace. She noted the way he made sure to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the street, when they made their way out of the park and headed in the direction of home. He could easily skateboard home. He could easily go in a different direction. But he was walking _with_ her. Why? She obsessed over this for the majority of their walk which is why he caught her off-guard when he asked,

"So when are you getting _your_ license?"

"Huh?" She said dumbly. "Oh, um…" As she registered her question, a scowl formed on her face. "Probably not until I move out of my parents' god-forsaken house,"

"Really?" Arnold asked, curious and surprised. "Why?"

"Because," Helga said with an exaggerated sigh, her voice conveying her resentment, " _Bob_ doesn't wanna pay for driver's ed, or a permit to freaking practice," She huffed. "' _What do you think you're gonna practice on, little lady? I'm not havin' you bust up my car!'_ " She imitated his deep, gruff voice.

"That sucks," Arnold said empathetically.

"Yeah, well," Helga responded haughtily. "Such is life, Football-head. I wouldn't want his help anyway. All he does is rub it in your face after the fact," She muttered.

Arnold's brow softened. He always felt bad for her and the way her home life was. He'd known things were strained since they were kids and it seems that not too much had changed over the years. Helga seemed a little more detached from her parents than she was when they were younger but he suspected there was still a child-like part of her that was disappointed that things hadn't improved very much. He bit his lip, eyes cast down, as his mind wandered to Helga's relationship with Phoebe. He wondered when Helga would find out and how? How would she react? He was very aware that Phoebe was the one person who'd always stood by Helga. Even when she was being completely ridiculous and downright nasty, Phoebe had always had her back, despite Helga's often selfish ways. He felt heavy thinking about how Helga would react when she finally learned about Phoebe's condition. Of all people, he certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell her. Oh no, that was not his place. But still, he felt bad for her and his desire to help her hadn't subsided over the years.

"If you want," Arnold said carefully, an idea forming. "When I get my license, I could pick you up on my way to school and give you a ride home?"

Helga looked at him, perplexed, as her brownstone came into view down the road. "What? Why would you do that?"

"I dunno," He shrugged, the presence of her eyes on him suddenly making him the slightest bit bashful. He fought the sensation of his cheeks pinkening. It was no big deal. Why was his body responding this way? "Your house is on the way and it'd be a nice thing to do?"

"I don't need your charity, Football-head," She glared.

"It's not charity!" Arnold said defensively. "It was just an idea! Sheesh…"

Helga was quiet a moment before they crossed the street, her house only a few houses down now.

 _Are you kidding me?_ She chastised herself. _Get yourself together! Take his freaking offer! The chance to see him, ALONE, every morning and afternoon? You're an idiot!_

Arnold walked with her up to her stoop and stopped at the base. "I guess I'll see you at school," He said, laying his skateboard down on the pavement and stepping on it with one foot.

"Arnold, wait," Helga said as he started to turn around. He looked back and she had to force herself to keep talking. God, his eyes were mesmerizing to her. "Um… I guess uh, a ride couldn't hurt," She managed. _Be nice! Be gracious! Be EVERYTHING YOU'RE NOT, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY._ "Uh, I… appreciate it,"

Arnold smiled. "Cool," He slipped into his backpack so that both straps were now secured onto his shoulders. "See you later, Helga,"

Helga watched as he skateboarded down the sidewalk in the direction they'd come. Her heart did a little bounce thinking about the fact that he'd gone out of his way to walk her home. His house, after all, was in the opposite direction.

. . . . . . . .

Phoebe was back at school that Friday. As she stood at her locker getting what she needed for her first class, several students came up to her in succession to say hello and ask how she was doing. Phoebe would reply politely and tell them she was feeling much better, thanking them for thinking of her as she smiled sweetly. Everyone seemed content with such an answer and the fact that Phoebe was back seemed, to anyone unaware of Phoebe's underlying illness, to convey that everything was back to normal. As she watched friends and acquaintances walk away, her smile would falter slightly. Her secret was beginning to feel quite heavy on her shoulders.

"Hey Phoebe," Arnold said as he walked up to her just as she was shutting her locker. "It's good to see you," His smile was warm but there was a strange tension in the air. Arnold was the only person in the school, at least right now, that really knew what was going on with her.

"Thanks Arnold," She gave a small smile that seemed to only be skin-deep.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither quite know what to say to or expect from the other, until Arnold spoke.

"I know it isn't any of my business," Arnold began hesitantly. "But I was just wondering why you haven't told Helga yet? About what's going on?"

Phoebe inhaled, exhaling slowly. "You're right, Arnold; it isn't your business to discuss," She stated plainly and Arnold cringed for a moment before she continued with a sigh. In truth, she had been thinking about this quite a bit lately, especially since she'd been out sick. "Honestly, I don't know how she's going to react," She confessed. "I'm actually dreading it quite a bit,"

Arnold nodded, understanding. "But she's your best friend," He said gently.

"Yes," Phoebe replied. "But she also tends to boss me around, forget about me, leave incredible burdens on my shoulders… she isn't the most considerate person and I know you're aware of this fact,"

"Well, yeah," Arnold admitted. "But still, it's gotta be really tough keeping this all to yourself. I mean, you can always talk to me if you want to and I'll do what I can but I think it's really important that you talk to Helga, too. Even though she _does_ do all that stuff, she's your best friend for a reason, right?"

Phoebe considered for a moment, then sighed. "Yes, you do have a valid point," She said. "I'll think about it… but I'm still hesitant,"

"I get it," Arnold nodded. "Well, I'll see you around, Phoebe,"

"Good-bye, Arnold," Phoebe said with a sigh as he disappeared down the hallway. In her gut she knew she had to tell Helga. But she didn't want to be let down and she didn't feel ready to deal with Helga's emotions about the matter when she'd barely processed her own. She certainly wasn't in denial about what was going on but the emotional reality of it hadn't quite hit her. She was dealing with her situation with a stoic grace that left her parents in awe and bewilderment but it wasn't because she was being brave or strong. It was because it was simply too much. She'd barely lived. There was still so much that she wanted to do with her life. So she wasn't denying her reality - she knew what was going to happen and the physiological processes her body was going through - but she had muted the emotional truth of it all.

"'Sup, Phoebe?" Gerald jarred her out of her thoughts as his body was suddenly right next to hers and his arm was resting above her head against the lockers. "How are you doin'?"

"Oh," Phoebe said, pushing down all of the butterflies that made her want to grin uncontrollably. "Much better, thank you," She smiled politely, tilting her gaze up to meet his.

Gerald smiled. "I'm glad," He said, his brown eyes mesmerizing her as she studied the flecks of gold around his pupils. "You were out for a long time,"

"Yeah…" Phoebe said, trailing off as she attempted to formulate some sort of excuse as to why it took so long to recover but she didn't need to ponder very long as Gerald continued.

"I was wondering," He said, turning to lean his back against the lockers, crossing his arms over his chest and sliding down slightly so he was almost eye-level with the petite girl. "If you're feelin' up to it, what do you say to grabbin' Slausen's tomorrow?"

Phoebe could feel her face blushing furiously but she carried on regardless. "That sounds delightful," She smiled and Gerald's facial expression mirrored her own.

"Great!" He said, a little too excitedly. "I mean, I would say let's go today after school but I've got practice and -"

"That's fine," Phoebe said, thinking ahead to other business she should attend to today - namely, Helga. "I have other plans this afternoon as well, but tomorrow sounds nice,"

"Cool," Gerald nodded in satisfaction as he stood up straight. "I'll call you?"

Phoebe gave a small nod in response. "Sure,"

The deafening sound of first bell rang through the hallway, signaling the students only had five more minutes to get to their first period classes.

"Alright," Gerald said as he started to walk backwards in the direction of his class, still facing Phoebe. "See ya later, Phoebe," He said before turning around to continue walking.

"See ya," Phoebe said, her cheeks almost painful from smiling so hard.

. . . . . . . .

Around 4 pm, Phoebe sat by the window in her room, anxiously waiting for Helga to arrive. She was coming over after serving detention (a freshman had gotten in her way in the hallway and Mrs. Henley, one of the resource teachers, had witnessed the altercation).

Phoebe contemplated how she would tell Helga. This would be her first time telling anyone about her illness. Her parents already knew, obviously, and Arnold had stumbled upon the information on his own. Phoebe hadn't given much thought as to how she would communicate about her illness up until this point so she tried on different phrasings, all the while trying to wrap her own mind around the truth. Words like "leukemia" and "cancer" felt foreign on her lips and nothing sounded right - everything she thought to say made it feel like she was on the set of some dramatic soap opera and she was a main character.

The soft ding of the doorbell downstairs, coupled with a few hard knocks, signaled Helga's arrival. Phoebe's heart rate inexplicably quickened and she talked herself into calming down as she padded down the carpeted staircase.

"Hey Pheebs," Helga said casually as Phoebe opened the door, letting her in. "Man, what a joke!" She exclaimed, seemingly having held in this outburst for the duration of her walk to Phoebe's house. "Mrs. Henley is such a bitch. I swear, she's had it out for me since sophomore year,"

Phoebe closed the door behind Helga as she continued.

"I mean, criminy!" Helga let out an exaggerated sigh as she tossed her backpack to the floor next to the staircase. "I barely even touched the kid,"

Phoebe listened quietly, nodding and providing sounds of approval and understanding as Helga went through her rant.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about, Helga," Phoebe said when Helga had finally seemed to finish and calm down.

"Yeah?" Helga said as she shrugged off her hoodie and tossed it on top of her backpack. "What's up?"

Phoebe followed Helga into the living room and watched her best friend flop onto the sofa, kick off her shoes and look around for the TV remote before propping her feet up on the coffee table. The casual demeanor of Helga's actions made it tempting to avoid the conversation altogether. It would be so easy to engage Helga in more details about her disdain for Mrs. Henley or the incident with the freshman that led to her detention. Still, a burning in the back of her mind told her that she needed to come clean to Helga. Wringing her hands together, her nervousness and contemplation unbeknownst to Helga, Phoebe cleared her throat.

Helga's eyes were glued to the screen as she flipped through commercial after commercial. "Out with it, Pheebs. I don't got all day," She groaned, sinking deeper into the couch cushions.

"Well," Phoebe breathed. "I'm really not quite sure as to the best way to put this…" She watched for Helga's reaction but she her gaze was still fixed on the TV. "And it's rather _important,"_ She said pointedly and Helga looked up.

"Well then, spit it out!" Helga exclaimed impatiently, resting an elbow on the arm of the sofa. "Criminy, Pheebs…"

Phoebe sighed. "Okay," Another breath. "I'm… sick,"

Helga blinked. "...Um… okay? Again?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Like, _achk achk_ , I have bronchitis again or are you gonna spew on me… gimme a little more to work with here,"

"No," Phoebe shook her head as her eyes prickled with the hint of tears. "Not like that…" She paused, hoping Helga would catch on.

"What the heck are you talking about?" Helga demanded but her brow began to soften as an unwelcome realization began to dawn on her.

Phoebe took a steadying breath, her gaze lowered to the floor. "I have leukemia," She said quietly, the weight of the words seemingly grounding her to this spot on the floor.

Helga was unusually quiet. Phoebe watched as her best friend sank back into the couch with a stunned but otherwise blank facial expression.

"Helga, please say something," Phoebe said after a moment, her voice breaking the slightest bit.

This seemed to pull Helga from her daze. "Okay…" She started slowly. "So there's gonna be chemo… and radiation… or both, I don't know how this stuff works…" She mumbled, partly to Phoebe and partly to herself. "You'll probably catch every virus under creation but that's no surprise… maybe some time in the hospital…"

Phoebe's eyes welled up as she listened to Helga talk herself through her expectations of what would happen. She didn't want to stop her but she couldn't let Helga go on building up her hope in this way. It was so difficult to hear all of the things Phoebe had already gone through to no avail.

"I've already done that stuff," Phoebe said softly, lifting her gaze to meet Helga's eyes. Her face was scrunched up in thought and her prominent brow furrowed as she processed everything Phoebe was telling her. "I'm afraid it was unsuccessful,"

"You've already…" Helga looked at Phoebe incredulously. "How… How long have you _known_?"

 _Here it was._ Phoebe inhaled deeply. "I was diagnosed almost two years ago,"

Helga's eyes widened and once again she was stunned into silence, staring at Phoebe as if she'd grown a second head.

"God, please, Helga, _say something_ ," Phoebe begged after another agonizing moment of silence.

"Say something?" Helga parroted bitterly. " _Say something?_ Like _you_ could have said something? Why didn't you _tell me, Phoebe?!_ " Helga exclaimed, her voice harsh with anger and the threat of tears on the horizon.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you!" Phoebe exclaimed, desperately wanting to go back in time to either tell Helga sooner or never tell her at all. She still wasn't sure which would have been easier, if either of them could be easy at all. "I wasn't sure how you'd react and I was trying to process it all on my own! It still doesn't make sense to me and I knew you'd be upset -"

" _Upset?!_ " Helga cried, whirling from this information. "No shit! But you still -"

"I wanted to!" Phoebe interrupted her, her voice rising in pitch as she became louder. This was the most she'd engaged her emotions up until this point and it seemed the floodgates had opened. "But I needed to process this on my own without anyone worrying or treating me differently. It's enough to deal with on my own, let alone have to deal with everyone else's emotions about it!"

Helga sat shaking her head, her gaze lowered. She couldn't even look at Phoebe. So many emotions were swirling around inside of her and she wasn't sure what she would say. She was almost afraid of what could come out of her mouth at this point. More than anything, though, she was stunned. She felt like she'd had the wind knocked out of her and she was simultaneously ready to fight and flee.

"I just wanted space," Phoebe finished, deflating as she slowly calmed down again. She pushed aside her glasses to wipe a tear with the end of her sleeve.

"Okay," Helga said simply, nodding as she stood up. "You want space? I'll give you space. That's fine," Her voice was unusually unexpressive and she walked out to the foyer to pick up her things.

"Helga, don't go," Phoebe said, following her friend. "I don't want you to leave,"

"Yeah, well, you seem to be handling things _pretty well_ without me," Helga countered coldly and the icy retort stung Phoebe. "I need… I don't know what I need…" Helga muttered, hastily tossing her jacket over her shoulder and slipping one strap of her backpack onto the other. "I'm just… ugh…" She groaned.

"Helga," Phoebe said pitifully.

"What?" Helga whirled on her, startling her. Phoebe noticed Helga's eyes were watering despite the furious scowl on her face. "You don't need me!" She yanked the front door open and Phoebe was powerless to stop her.

 **[A/N: Alright, so it's finally hitting the fan! I struggled a bit with getting this chapter out so blah. Hope you like it!]**


	8. Chapter 8

Arnold and Gerald were hanging out in Gerald's room Friday evening. Gerald had gotten home shortly before dinner and Arnold had come over afterwards.

"What movie did you say it was?" Arnold asked, reclining back against the wall from his seat on Gerald's bed. A community group had recently started having bi-monthly movie nights in the park. They would set up a huge screen in one of the fields and project a well-known movie while people sat in the grass and watched. It'd had a pretty good turnout the two times they'd done it already and most people at school went every time.

Gerald was seated at his desk, his laptop open in front of him as he re-organized his music files. Random song clips played throughout their conversation as he clicked to check what files were located in which folders. "Uh…" He said, distracted. "I don't remember. I think it's one of the old Batman movies like Batman Begins or something,"

Arnold silently nodded his understanding as he perused through his phone, hovering over Helga's contact information and wondering if now would be a good time to text her. They were, after all, supposed to continue working on their project tomorrow so it would make sense for her to get in contact with her, right? But why was he even taking so much time to second-guess himself. It wasn't a big deal so why was he over-thinking this so much?

Arnold didn't realize Gerald had turned around and been staring at him for a couple of minutes. "You textin' your girlfriend, Arnold?" He teased slyly.

"What girlf—Gerald! Cut it out," Arnold snapped out of his thoughts. "This is getting old,"

"No, you know what's getting old?" Gerald countered. "Me, waitin' for you to make your move on that girl," He shook his head.

"We're just friends, Gerald," Arnold repeated the statement he must have made dozens of times in just the past few weeks. "And science partners for now,"

"Friends, huh?" Gerald repeated, the wicked grin on his face unbeknownst to Arnold as he returned his attention back to his phone, opening a new message to send to Helga.

 _Tell me again…_

Arnold lifted his gaze at the sound of a slow R&B beat coming from Gerald's speakers, a devilishly amused grin on Gerald's face.

 _That we'll be lovers and friends…_

"Really?" Arnold deadpanned and Gerald guffawed.

"You trippin', man," Gerald shook his head as he paused the song. "And you don't even _know_ it… Mmm, mmm, mmm…"

Arnold was getting pretty good at dismissing Gerald's accusations but on the inside, he was slowly beginning to question himself. He typed out a simple, but forced, text to Helga.

 **My test is at 10 am. If all goes well, I'll pick you up at 1?**

"So I'm takin' Phoebe out tomorrow," Gerald introduced the change of subject with a facial expression that indicated he was more than a little pleased with himself.

This caught Arnold's attention and he put his phone away just as it finished sending his text. "You are?"

"Yeah," Gerald nodded, resting an elbow on his desk as he turned out and leaned into it. "Set it up today,"

"Oh," Arnold said. He wasn't sure what to think of this. While he knew that Gerald had always had a thing for Phoebe, he couldn't help feeling a little protective given what he knew about Phoebe's situation. That, and the fact that Gerald had developed quite a reputation for moving quickly through the girls at school. However, he was also aware that Gerald had had a pretty solid crush on Phoebe throughout most of elementary school.

"What do you mean, _'Oh'_?" Gerald said, almost mildly offended. "Man, I _told_ you it's different with her,"

"I don't know, Gerald," Arnold said in the excessively concerned wet-blanket kind of way that drove Gerald crazy sometimes.

"It's just _Slausen's_ , man," Gerald defended. "I mean, what, you think I'm gonna try and bone her right there in the booth or some shit?"

Arnold's eyes widened at that. "Well, no, I didn't say that…"

Gerald shook his head. "Gimme some credit, man," He sighed. "I mean, okay, _yeah,_ I know I have somewhat of a reputation but have some faith in a brotha,"

Arnold sighed. He still had reservations about his best friend getting involved with Phoebe – not only for Phoebe's sake but for Gerald's – but he had to let it go. At least for now. "You're right, I know," He nodded. "Good luck,"

Gerald smirked. "You should go ahead to the park without me – I'm gonna call Phoebe and figure out what time we're goin' tomorrow," He said, retrieving his phone from atop his dresser. "I'll catch up,"

"Okay," Arnold said, sliding off Gerald's bed and checking to make sure his phone, wallet, and keys were in his pockets. "See you there,"

. . . . . . . .

After Helga had stormed out that afternoon, Phoebe had retreated to her bedroom in tears. She had anticipated a similar reaction from Helga but she also felt partly to blame. Had she created the reaction she had hoped to avoid?

When Phoebe didn't come downstairs for dinner later that evening, her mom went up to check on her.

"Sweetheart?" Reba knocked gently at her daughter's bedroom door. "Dinner's on the table, sugar, you hungry?"

"No," Phoebe's voice was muffled and broken. "Thank you, though,"

Reba tentatively opened the door. Phoebe was sitting on her bed, knees pulled up close to her chest as she clutched a large pillow in a bear hug. "Phoebe, what's going on?" Reba instantly moved over to Phoebe's bed and pulled her daughter into a hug.

"I told Helga," Phoebe's voice cracked as she cried into the soft crook of her mom's neck.

"Oh, honey…" Reba trailed off as she held Phoebe tight, rubbing her hand up and down Phoebe's back in a comforting gesture. "She didn't take it well," Reba assumed.

"She was so mad," Phoebe whimpered pitifully. "She said I should have told her sooner and that I don't need her," More tears streamed from Phoebe's eyes, dripping onto her mom's light blue sweater. "It's all my fault; I should have told her. I brought this self-fulfilling prophecy on myself by not trusting her with my feelings and now –"

"Shhh," Reba hushed her, pulling back from Phoebe so she could wipe her tears with her thumbs and push away stray locks of her raven hair. "Don't you go beatin' yourself up now, ya hear? She's hurtin', baby. It's only natural," She sighed wistfully. "You two are too young to be goin' through somethin' this big,"

"I should have told her, though," Phoebe said sadly, resting her head against her mother's shoulder.

"But you did, darlin'," Reba continued the gentle rubbing of her daughter's back. "You told her when you felt ready to do it. I understand where she's comin' from but at the same time, you've gotta do what you feel is right when you're ready for it, baby girl," Reba laid her cheek against the top of Phoebe's head. "She'll come around,"

"I feel so terrible for hurting her feelings," Phoebe said, gradually calming down though her face was still stained with tears. "I completely understand why she was so upset. I shouldn't have hidden this from her. She probably feels like I purposefully deceived her!"

"She's scared, baby," Reba said softly. "We're all scared and we're all hurtin'. Different people handle those kinds of feelin's in different ways and that's okay," She wrapped her arms around Phoebe and gently rocked side to side. "You've been worryin' about her and doin' everything for her since ya'll were barely in diapers and I know it's because she's your friend and you love her. But give her the chance to do the same for you, sugar,"

Phoebe pursed her lips and inhaled deeply. The stress of crying had worn her out and she felt exhausted. Her mother's soothing presence but almost a lullaby.

"You're right," Phoebe said quietly, lifting her head from her mother's shoulder. "I just didn't want her to be mad at me,"

"I don't think she's mad at you, sweetie," Reba shook her head the slightest bit. "I think she just needs her own time to process what you told her. We've known about this for two years. She's only known for two hours,"

"Yeah," Phoebe sighed.

"You sure you don't want anything to eat?" Reba said, pushing back her daughter's hair that had once again fallen forward and stuck to the tear-moistened parts of her face.

"I'll meet you and Father downstairs," Phoebe nodded just as her cell phone on her nightstand began to vibrate loudly.

"Okay," Reba patted Phoebe's back before getting up and walking out of the room.

Phoebe leaned back against her pillows and picked up her phone. Gerald was calling.

"Hello?" Phoebe answered in a deceivingly normal tone. The evidence of her previous crying session all but disappeared from her voice.

"Hey Phoebe," Gerald said in a cheerful, yet still cool voice. "What's up?"

"Oh…" Phoebe trailed off. "Nothing much. How are you?"

"Good, good," Gerald said, pausing. "So um, you're still down for Slausen's tomorrow, right?"

Phoebe smiled, remembering his invitation earlier that day. "Of course,"

"Great!" Gerald said excitedly and Phoebe stifled a giggle. "Um, so do you wanna meet up around 12? Is that too early for ice cream? I mean, we could get lunch, too, if you want?"

Phoebe's grin had stretched ear to ear at this point. "Noon sounds lovely, Gerald,"

"Perfect," Gerald said, followed by another pause. "Um, are you goin' to the outdoor movie tonight?"

"No," Phoebe replied. "I'm afraid I'm rather tired,"

"Oh," Gerald said with a tinge of disappointment. "Okay, that's cool. So I'll just see you tomorrow then,"

"See you tomorrow," Phoebe said, a smile in her voice.

As they hung up, Phoebe felt slightly better. She would have to tell Gerald eventually, too, but telling him was not as dire as telling Helga so she could enjoy the mirage of normalcy for just a little while longer.

. . . . . . . .

Helga didn't have a plan for leaving Phoebe's. She'd left in a blind rage, biting back tears and paying little attention to where she was walking. She just wanted to get away, to escape. Her mind racing and her heart aching, she didn't know where to go or what to do with herself so she just kept her feet moving.

She'd started to make her way home but as she turned onto her street, she saw her front door was open and she could hear her mother screaming angrily as she carried suitcases down the stoop. Big Bob was standing in the doorway, also yelling, though Helga couldn't make out the specifics of their argument. Regardless, that was more than she could handle in this moment so she promptly turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

That's how she found herself in the park. It was big enough that she could find a less populated area to let herself go. There weren't many places in the neighborhood that she felt she could go to and let everything out, to be herself. She'd slumped down behind a tree that was nestled amongst a few other large oaks at the edge of the woods. On her other side was a large field that she'd forgotten was to be used tonight for movie night. Thankfully, she was far away enough that no one would likely notice her and she could watch the movie if she needed a distraction.

But movies and people were far from her mind at this time. When she was finally alone, she completely broke down. Her stomach heaved with painful cries as she buried her face into her knees, convulsing with her sobs. She told herself that she didn't know what she was more upset about – Phoebe's hiding of her secret or the secret itself but deep down, she knew. She was going to lose her best friend and that was not only heartbreaking but also terrifying.

As she seeped in her emotional collapse, she caught the sound of twigs breaking behind her.

"Helga? What's wrong?"

Helga growled. "What the _fuck_ , Football-head?" She snapped viciously without turning around. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to movie night and I saw you," Arnold replied innocuously, pointing in the direction he'd come but Helga didn't look. "What's going on?" He said, slowly approaching from the other side of the tree. The air had grown chilly with the setting of the sun and Helga had slipped into a purple jacket.

"Just leave me alone," Helga muttered angrily but the tears and breaking of her voice betrayed her hardened façade. "It's none of your business, Football-head,"

Arnold took a deep breath. He had a suspicion as to what could have Helga this upset. "…Is it Phoebe?"

Helga's ears perked up at that. She squinted, turning around to face him with an intimidating yet curious expression. "What do you know about Phoebe?"

Arnold gulped. He could easily be hanging himself by answering this question but he thought it better not to lie to her. "I know she's sick…"

" _You_ fucking _knew_?" She exclaimed incredulously, not sure whether to cry or hit something. Or both. Her body chose for her and another wave of tears flooded her eyes. "I can't believe this," She muttered, shaking her head.

Arnold crouched down and moved closer to her but Helga snapped at him. "Get away from me!" Her voice had thorns and Arnold jumped back as though he'd been pricked. Her fierceness crumbled, however, as he watched her melt into her knees, blonde hair falling down around her like a shield. He watched as her back shuddered with her sobs and he summoned enough courage to tentatively reach out and touch her shoulder.

"Why would she tell _you?_ " Helga lifted her head, startling Arnold who immediately retracted his hand. "None of this makes sense. Am I that shitty of a friend? I don't get to know?"

"She didn't want to tell me," Arnold said simply, cautiously sitting down in the grass beside her. "I kind of found out by accident,"

Helga shook her head wordlessly and looked up, seemingly satisfied with that response. A gust of wind pushed through the branches above her and she watched as newly-birthed leaves, green with youth, rustled against one another. Arnold studied her face; the pink splotching around her eyes and cheeks, the puffiness under her eyes, the tears in their corners that had yet to fall. Her blonde hair was loose and wild with no particular parting to one side or the other. Her dark eyebrows, normally strong and powerful – intimidating at times – were now soft and he noticed they weren't as dark as they appeared from a distance, despite the limited lighting of a few scattered lamp posts around them. Tears clung to her eyelashes and she blinked them away as they sat in silence.

"I can't do this," Helga finally said in a breath after several minutes of quiet between them.

"Do what?" Arnold asked gently, his eyes still fixed on her.

"Any of it," She said, her eyes brimming with tears once again and he immediately regretted his question. He didn't want her to cry. "Phoebe is the only –" Helga cut herself off, unable to complete the sentence as she sobbed again. "She's all I have," Her voice was muffled but Arnold understood every word and he felt his chest ache in empathy. Helga lifted her head to speak, her defenses down as her breakdown ensued. "I have a shit family that doesn't notice me; my parents fight all the time and Olga is hopelessly unaware, and Phoebe's the only one…" She paused, her voice softening as she struggled to speak. "She's the only one who's always been there for me. I don't deserve it – I don't deserve anything she's done for me or just _her_ but I need her and she's…" Helga looked to Arnold, patiently listening as she disintegrated. "She's _dying_ , Arnold," Her voice was a whimper and her lip trembled. "I can't do this without her! I can't lose her! I can't… I can't… And-and I can't even be there for her after she tells me this. What do I do? I walk out because of how _I_ feel. I guess I can't blame her for not telling me before. I've never been a good enough friend to her but…" She blinked away a fresh set of tears as her words hung in the air, her chest pained from sobbing. "If it wasn't for her, I'd be alone," Helga shrugged nonchalantly but her facial expression was anything but calm. "And now I will be,"

"Hey," Arnold's voice was warm and a little scratchy before he cleared his throat. "You're not alone, okay?" He leaned toward her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "And you're not going to _be_ alone,"

Helga shook her head, disagreeing without words and Arnold scooted a little closer so that his arm's position around her was more comfortable. Every time he thought of something to say, he second-guessed it as stupid or inappropriate so they sat quietly for a little while with nothing but the sounds of Helga's crying and the distant sound of crowd chatter coming from across the field as people from the neighborhood gathered to watch the movie.

"How do you always manage to show up when all I want is to be alone?" Helga asked rhetorically, her voice quiet and somber as she'd found a temporary reprieve from crying. At any other time, she'd be ecstatic and giddy to have Arnold this close to her but she was numb and in a completely different mindset at this point.

Arnold shrugged, his gaze cast down at the grass he was absent-mindedly pulling with his free hand. "I dunno," He said and Helga's eyes found the grass he was fidgeting with. "Pretty weird, huh?"

Helga snorted in response. "I don't know what to do," She sighed dejectedly.

"Just be there for her," Arnold offered simply.

She knew he was right but she couldn't shake her fear – of being alone, of losing the one person who understood her, who accepted her even while knowing all of her dark secrets and weaknesses. Arnold had given her hope as a child that love and compassion existed and he'd even provided an example but Phoebe was the manifestation of that knowledge. She was the person who showed those things to Helga on a regular basis and without her, all Helga could imagine was a life of loneliness and longing.

"And don't worry about being alone," Arnold said softly, the hand on her opposite shoulder absent-mindedly rubbing her shoulder with a gentleness that made Helga's world slow down. "No matter what happens,"

Helga lifted her gaze to find Arnold's green eyes looking at her, penetrating her such that she felt exposed and vulnerable. And although it was uncomfortable, it still felt okay to let him look at her that way.

 **[A/N: The song Gerald played was "Lovers and Friends" by Usher, Lil Jon, and Ludacris.]**


	9. Chapter 9

Gerald was already waiting outside of Slausen's when Phoebe approached the quaint store front. With spring in full bloom, the air was mild and fresh with the scent of cherry blossoms clinging to meticulously arranged trees around the neighborhood. The sky was partly cloudy, making for a picturesque skyline and a moderately bright day.

"Hey Phoebe," Gerald couldn't help his grin as Phoebe came within earshot. She was wearing an ankle-length beige skirt with a lace overlay, a simple black top and a white shrug.

"Good afternoon, Gerald," She returned his smile and stopped in front of him outside the ice cream shop. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long?"

"Nah," Gerald shook his head, reaching over to open the door as he escorted her inside.

The air conditioning must have been on blast because it was much chillier inside than outside. Phoebe rubbed her upper arms as she looked up at the menu.

"You cold?" Gerald asked, wishing he'd worn more than a T-shirt so he could offer her something to keep her warm. "Man, they've gotta have that AC cranked,"

"I'll be fine," Phoebe turned, looking up at him and smiling. She hadn't realized at first how close he was to her but when she turned around, she could smell the faint scent of soap and cologne. He had a hint of black stubble stretched in patches across the underside of his jawline and he seemed to tower over her with about a foot's height difference.

"So do you know what you wanna get?" Gerald asked, looking up at the menu and weighing his options. "Whatever you want, don't hold back, alright?"

Phoebe smirked. "Hmm…" She said thoughtfully. "Perhaps I'll have the egg salad,"

"Go for it," Gerald said, nodding to the cashier who was patiently waiting for her to step forward and place her order.

"Hello," Phoebe greeted the cashier, who couldn't have been much older than her, cheerfully. "May I have the egg salad with lettuce on rye, please?"

"Is that it?" The teenage cashier asked as he punched in keys on his register.

"Nah, can I get the roast beef on white with some fries?" Gerald interjected. "And that's together, my man,"

"Egg on rye, roast beef on white," The cashier repeated back to them. "Anything else?"

"Do you wanna order ice cream now or after we eat?" Gerald turned to Phoebe. "Your call,"

"Let's wait and see how much of an appetite we still have," Phoebe suggested.

"You heard the lady," Gerald returned his attention to the cashier as he handed over a few bills and led Phoebe to a booth for them to wait on their food.

As the two of them settled into the cushioned red seats, both began to realize how nervous they were. It'd been years since they'd spent time alone together and while memories served them, they'd both grown in different directions since then.

"So," Gerald started, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He normally knew what to say on dates. He had lines and plans for every conversation but everything he thought about saying seemed fake. "Um…" Phoebe watched him expectantly as he came up with something to say. "Are you taking the SATs next week?" _That was dumb._ Gerald mentally chastised himself. _And you think you got game? This is pitiful._

"Oh, uh," Phoebe said, caught slightly off-guard by the question. Truthfully, she'd decided not to take the SATs. Given her doctor's prognosis of her illness, she didn't think it would benefit her in the long run and she couldn't justify her parents spending money on a test that likely would never be able to serve its purpose. "I actually missed the registration deadline," _Why am I lying? This is a terrible way to start a date!_ Phoebe bemoaned in her head.

"Aw man," Gerald replied as a waitress brought them each a glass of water. "Thanks," He said before turning back to Phoebe. "Well, they have other test dates. Either way, I'm sure you'll put our whole class to shame,"

That elicited a smile from Phoebe. "Why, thank you. You flatter me,"

"I could do it all day," He purred, leaning forward and accidentally tipping over his glass of water. The glass hit the table with a startling clang and Phoebe jumped to avoid the flood of ice water heading for her side of the table.

"Shit! Uh, I mean crap!" Gerald exclaimed, exceedingly self-conscious at this point as he grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser at the head of the booth to sop up the mess. "I'm really sorry,"

Phoebe giggled. "It's quite okay," She smiled, enjoying how flustered he was all of a sudden. "No harm done," He stopped wiping the table and let the napkins sit spread out across the table, soaking up what remained of his water.

"Okay," He said, meeting her gaze and sitting back against the booth seat. "Man, I'm just glad that was only water,"

"Yeah, otherwise we'd _really_ have a problem, Mr. Johanssen," Phoebe said in a mock scolding voice.

"Oh yeah?" Gerald grinned, playing along. "Well, we can't have _that_ ,"

The way the corner of his lip turned up into a half-smile was enough to make Phoebe swoon but thankfully, their sandwiches came out as a welcome distraction.

They were mostly quiet for the first few minutes as they dug into their food.

"You know it's good when the food comes out and conversation drops to zero," Gerald joked and Phoebe chuckled, polishing off the first half of her sandwich.

"Indeed,"

"So what have you been up to all these years, Miss Heyerdahl?" Gerald mused, resting his elbow on the tabletop, albeit carefully so as not to knock anything else over.

"That's quite the loaded question," Phoebe replied. "I wouldn't know where to start,"

"Okay," Gerald pondered. "How about… junior high?"

"Oh no," Phoebe laughed. "Anything but those years!"

Gerald reciprocated her laughter. "Alright, alright. Future-tense, then. What do you wanna do _after_ high school?"

"After high school?" Phoebe bit her lip, her mood immediately shifting as she tried to find an answer to the question. It was painful how unaware he was of her circumstances but now was not the time or place to disclose her illness.

"Yeah," Gerald continued. "Like, okay, ideal world – where do you see yourself?"

"Hmm…" Phoebe thought for a moment. "In an ideal world, I would love to be a biomedical engineer,"

"Yeah?" Gerald's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I'm impressed. What exactly would that involve?"

"Applying engineering principles and design concepts to medicine and biology for diagnostic or therapeutic healthcare purposes," She replied simply, unaware of how Gerald's mouth was metaphorically on the floor.

"Wow," He said, shaking his head as he took a sip of the glass of water the waitress had replaced.

"What?" Phoebe asked curiously.

"You're just somethin' else, Phoebe," Gerald smiled. "I shouldn't be surprised, though. You've always been smart, and impressive," He paused, adding with a shy look, "That's one of the things I've always liked about you,"

Phoebe felt heat rush to her cheeks and she bit the inside of them in a vain attempt at keeping her composure. "Thank you," She managed through an uncontrollable smile. Gerald noticed and smiled to himself as he turned his attention to the other half of his sandwich.

"Um, so what about you?" Phoebe asked, hoping a return to conversation would calm down her sympathetic nervous system and bring an end to her furious blushing. "After school? What will Gerald Johannsen be doing?"

" _Well,"_ Gerald said, taking a bite of his sandwich and swallowing. "I've always thought it'd be cool to be a CPA,"

"Accounting?" Phoebe deduced. "I suppose I can see that,"

"Yeah," Gerald said, enthusiastic over her affirmation. "I could probably get a basketball scholarship or something and try and get a free ride somewhere along the coast,"

"That sounds wonderful," Phoebe mused wistfully through a smile. "I'm sure you'll do well,"

Gerald grinned. "Thanks," He noted the half-eaten second half of her sandwich that hadn't been touched for several minutes. "So, what are you thinkin' – should we do ice cream?"

Phoebe paused as though thinking it over, then said matter-of-factly, "You know what? Yes, that sounds perfect,"

. . . . . . . .

Arnold's driving test went well and he even managed to convince Grandpa to let him take the car out for a school project. He'd arrived outside of Helga's brownstone a little earlier than expected. He pulled up alongside the curb, behind her father's blue sedan and dug his phone out of his pocket to text her.

 **I'm here.**

He waited patiently as the message sent and looked to the windows of her house to see if he could see her before she came out. He had no such luck, however, as the curtains were drawn and sunlight reflected off the windows making it impossible to see anything more than the reflection of the storefronts across the street.

His phone buzzed in his hand. **I'm not.**

 **Um, why?** He started typing but erased it as he saw she was typing something else.

 **P.S. 118. See you soon.**

Arnold shrugged.

 **OK.**

He wondered why she was at their old elementary school and his curiosity outweighed any hint of annoyance at the unexpected change in plans. As he pulled away from the curb and made his way to their old school, he couldn't help acknowledging the sensation of excitement bubbling up inside of him. He couldn't put a finger on why he was excited and attributed it to being out driving on his own for the first time as he turned left onto the street that would lead him to P.S. 118.

. . . . . . . .

It'd been raining that morning and while the pavement had dried, the grass was still damp and the playground equipment still held puddles of water at the base of the slide and across the uneven paving of the asphalt.

Helga had been walking around for much of the morning, listening to music on her phone and getting lost in her thoughts. One earbud dangling against her chest while one sat securely in her ear as she leaned against the wire fencing separating her from the playground she once ruled over. Flashbacks of recess and secret conversations and 4th grade domination ran through her mind as she got lost in visualizations made colorful by the melancholic music in her left ear.

 _Playground schoolbell rings again…  
Rainclouds come to play again…  
Has no one told you she's not breathing?  
Hello…  
I'm your mind, giving you someone to talk to…  
Hello…_

Miriam had left Bob yesterday. That's what the suitcases were for. To be honest, Helga was kind of indifferent to the split since she'd secretly wished for it for years. After her talk with Arnold in the park last night, she'd realized she had several missed calls from her mom and two from her dad. Miriam had left a voicemail saying to meet her at the Motel 7 on North Avenue and instructing her not to go back to the house. They'd spent the night in a tiny motel room with overly starched sheets and a damp smell that Helga couldn't quite pinpoint the source of. While Helga didn't have strong feelings one way or the other about her parents' separating, she was a bit miffed at not being able to spend the night in her own room, in her own bed. But Miriam had insisted and given the tone her mother had used, a voice she heard _very_ infrequently, she'd begrudgingly settled in for the night under the stiff, bleached sheets.

 _If I smile and don't believe,  
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream.  
Don't try to fix me,  
I'm not broken…  
Hello…  
I'm the light, living for you so you can hide…  
Don't cry…_

Her phone was on the verge of death since she hadn't had the chance to charge it the night before but she'd still been able to reply to Arnold's texts. It was kind of amazing how indifferent she felt today, as if she'd used up all of her emotional energy on one thing and now she was simply empty, a void with no purpose other than to walk around on a quiet morning under an overcast sky. There weren't many people out and about due to the weather so Helga took solace in the solitude.

 _Suddenly, I know I'm not sleeping…  
Hello…  
I'm still here, all that's left of yesterday…_

Helga recognized the Packard approaching from a block away and peeled herself off of the playground fence to meet the car at the edge of the sidewalk.

"Hey," Arnold greeted her as she stepped into the vehicle, her hood still up and pushing her blonde hair out, framing her face. "You're all wet," He commented, noting the smell of rain and the patchy, half-dry splotches on the shoulders and arms of her jacket.

"Boy, I'm glad you're my science partner," Helga said in a sarcastic yet monotone voice. "Your powers of deduction are incredible,"

"How long have you been out here?" Arnold asked as he starting driving away. "It rained a while ago,"

"A while," Helga replied simply, buckling herself in and slouching against the old cushioning of the car seat.

"Hmm," Arnold responded, weighing how beneficial it would be to continue this line of questioning. "So why P.S. 118?"

Helga groaned dramatically, shifting in her seat. "Why not?" She countered.

Arnold rolled his eyes and resolved to focus on the road. She'd answer him when and if she wanted to.

"If you must know," Helga said after a minute, to which Arnold smirked knowingly. "I got crap sleep last night and just felt like taking a walk,"

"Oh," Arnold said, stopping at a light. They had about a twenty minute drive before they got to the Potomac river outside of Hillwood. "That sucks,"

"Yeah, no kidding," Helga grumbled, crossing her arms. "Miriam decided to leave Big Bob yesterday and drag me to some shitty motel to stay the night,"

"Oh, wow," Arnold's eyes widened, though his focus remained diligently on the road in front of them. They were nearing the edge of the city and there were only a few more stoplights separating them from long, open, windy roads. "Are you okay? What's she gonna do?"

"Hell if I know," Helga shrugged, scowling. "I personally don't care what they do with their lives at this point, as long as they leave me out of it,"

"But Helga, they're your parents," Arnold reasoned.

Helga scoffed. "Figuratively speaking,"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind," Helga said impatiently. "Let's just get this over with," She sighed, sitting up and leaning over to turn up the radio.

 _This is going to be great…_ Arnold thought sarcastically to himself as Helga sifted through radio stations separated by static, finally settling on classic rock.

"I'm sorry things aren't going well at home," Arnold finally broke their silence after a few uncomfortably quiet minutes.

"Yeah, well," Helga said softly, in an almost tired voice. "It's nothing new so don't worry too much, Football-head,"

"Yeah, I know…" He replied, fully aware of how long Helga had been dealing with stress at home. For as long as he'd known her, there'd always been tension in her household – things that he didn't see many of his other peers dealing with and he'd often wondered what it was really like to be in her shoes. "So, I was thinking about last night –"

"Don't," Helga interrupted him, catching him off-guard. "Let's just pretend that conversation didn't happen, okay?"

Stark memories of saving the neighborhood, rooftop confessions, and similarly cloudy skies flashed across his mind.

"Not exactly one of my proudest moments, so I'd rather forget about it," Helga mumbled. "Thanks for the chat but… yeah. Deal?"

"Um…" Arnold said hesitantly. "Okay, I guess,"

"Good," Helga said definitively before inexplicably changing her tone such that Arnold glanced over at her quickly to see if he was still driving alongside the same person. "So what's the plan for today's nature walk, huh?"

"Well, uh," Arnold said, adjusting to her change in demeanor. "I've got more jars in the backseat for collecting water and plant samples. I figured we could head over to City Lake after this and collect samples from there, too. Um, then I guess we can go back to my house and look over everything we have – maybe get started on our lab reports?"

"Well, we surely won't be doing it at _my_ house," Helga griped.

"Right," Arnold said carefully.

Arnold didn't find relief from this uncomfortably tense conversation with Helga until they arrived at the section of the State Park in which they'd be parking. Weekends were free so Arnold drove through the gate and parked in a large empty lot overlooking a moderately sized patch of grass with several throngs of trees and the river bank at the base of a low incline. Cherry blossoms were in all stages of bloom on some of the trees – some flowers fully open and fragrant, some floating gently to the ground with each sweeping gust of wind, some still in tender buds, waiting to bloom.

The two teens hopped out of the car and as Helga crossed the parking lot and walked down the grass to the river, Arnold dug through his backseat to retrieve a box of jars. He shut the door with his foot and followed after his blonde partner.

She was already sitting on a rock when he carefully scuffled down the lowest point of the bank and onto the sandy dirt that met the water's edge. The view from this spot was incredible - long expanses of trees in every size, shape, and species; the river flowing gently in this spot with rocks of varying sizes spread out across its width and length; the pink and white blossoms hanging and falling from the trees around them.

Arnold carefully set his box down in the sand, farther up the bank and away from the water. He had a notepad tucked in the side of the box as well with notes from their previous work with the samples from the woods in the park.

Helga wordlessly climbed off of her rock and picked an empty jar from the box before kicking her shoes off, rolling up her jeans and wading into the river.

"Ahhh!" She gasped. "Shit, that's cold!"

Arnold couldn't help but chuckle at her outburst. She'd been so morose and gruff since he'd picked her up so to see such an unguarded reaction from her was amusing to say the least.

"Quit your laughin', Football-head!" Helga shot back over her shoulder as she waded out a little farther. "I have no problem dragging you in here with me if I have to,"

Arnold smirked, crossing his arms. "I think you're doing fine on your own," He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes before dipping the jar in the water, quickly filling it and securing the lid once again.

Arnold turned his attention back to his box, grabbing an empty jar and surveying the plant life around him. As he was contemplating which plants he thought most unique and worth collecting, he didn't hear Helga sneak up behind him. Without warning, he was covered in cold water, his blonde hair matted to his face as chilly droplets ran down his face and neck and into his shirt.

"Aughhhhh!" He jumped and Helga was nearly doubled-over, laughing hysterically with an empty jar in her hand.

"I warned you, Football-head," She said haughtily, still cackling.

"Yeah," Arnold said, wiping the water from his eyes as an idea came to him. "Yeah, you did…" He said before flinging his head to the side and splashing her with the water that still clung to his hair.

"Hey!" She jumped away, albeit too late. "Oh-ho-ho, this is war," She nodded, smirking confidently.

"Bring it on," Arnold challenged, one eyebrow lifted, anticipating her next move.

" _Oh_ , I will," Helga said. "But I'll get you when you're _least_ expecting it. You better learn to sleep with one eye open, Football-head,"

"Whatever you say, Helga," He smiled confidently, his half-lidded gaze unnerving her.

Once they'd collected their samples, they sat down on a couple rocks to go over their notes. The wind was picking up, hinting at another rain storm on its way and the gusts kept tossing Helga's hair in every direction. She huffed and pushed it out of her face multiple times as she struggled to focus on writing down the notes Arnold was reciting from his own notebook.

"Can we just do this at your house?" Helga finally grumbled, exasperated.

"Yeah, that's fine," Arnold shrugged, closing his notebook and returning it to the cardboard box between them before standing up.

" _Thank you_ ," Helga mumbled as she tossed her own notebook into the box and leaned forward to put her shoes back on.

Another powerful gust of wind blew past them and sent a flurry of cherry blossom petals through the air, several of which landed in Helga's hair.

As Helga stood up, Arnold noticed the flowers and without thinking about what he was doing, reached out to remove them.

"You've got –"

Helga looked up at him. His hand was in her hair and there was maybe only a foot of space between them. Her breath in her throat, she met his gaze with an excited uncertainty that rendered her motionless. He seemed to be just as unsure of what he was doing as his eyes scoured her face, the soft silk of her hair brushing against his hand. Her stomach was in knots as she watched his gaze settled on her lips and for a brief moment, she had no idea what was about to happen. It felt surreal, like she was watching the scene unfold with someone else playing her role. What was he thinking? Why was he so close to her? Did he realize what he was doing? How he was making her feel?

As quickly as the moment came, it went. Arnold seemed to sober, coughing and mumbling as he took a few steps back from her.

He rubbed his neck. "Uh, you've got some stuff in your hair," He muttered as he closed the flaps of the cardboard box and picked it up. "You ready?"

"Um, yeah," Helga said, shaking herself out of her daze. "Yeah, let's go,"

. . . . . . . .

Their drive back into the city and trip to City Lake were largely quiet and uneventful. Neither was sure what to say to the other after their incident by the river so they kept conversation solely focused on school and the project.

When they got to the boarding house, Arnold immediately led Helga up to his room where he pushed aside random papers and junk on his desk to make room for the box of samples.

Helga surveyed his room inquisitively. It hadn't changed too much from what she remembered, though this was the first time she had actually been invited into it. The carpeting was the same, albeit a little more worn, the wall paper had been removed to reveal simple brown wood paneling. Arnold's sound system had been updated with newer technology and the dust collecting on his older stereos was a notable contrast to the more modern equipment on his shelves. Above them, Helga could see dark grey clouds hovering over the city through Arnold's skylight and the result was relatively dim lighting in the room.

Arnold plucked a remote from atop his desk and turned on the overhead lights, then pushed another button that flipped a bright red couch out of the wall. Helga tentatively walked over to it. She remembered flipping back and forth on this couch and she remembered the bruises on her sides and back from the experience as well.

Arnold continued to straighten up, moving his laptop to his bed and spreading their samples and notes out on his otherwise empty desk as Helga soaked in every detail of the space. She noticed a guitar sitting in the corner and picked it up, catching Arnold's eye when she did so.

"That's probably really out of tune," He said, retrieving jars from the box and placing them on his desk.

Helga didn't respond, she just carried the instrument over to the couch and sat down. She strummed once, testing the validity and extent of Arnold's comment, then adjusted the tuning pegs a bit. It actually wasn't too bad at all.

"You play guitar?" Arnold asked, his curiosity piqued as he placed the last jar on the desk and put the box underneath. "I didn't know that,"

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Football-head," Helga said simply, testing out different chords.

"I guess it's not as out of tune as I thought," Arnold shrugged, taking a seat at his desk and facing her. "I haven't touched it in a while,"

"Yeah, well, I never _pegged_ you for a guitarist myself," Helga smirked at her pun but it went unnoticed by Arnold. Typical dense Football-head. "You seem to be more of a harmonica-blowin', sax-playin', slam poetry kind of dude,"

Arnold laughed. "Well, obviously I like jazz but that's not the only genre I listen to," He stood up and walked over to his closet, rummaging around before retrieving another guitar that seemed to have been ignored even more than the first.

He sat down and rested the instrument across his lap. Helga watched as he opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out a plastic sandwich bag with several picks and fished out two of them.

"Here," He stood up and leaned toward her to hand her a bright red pick. She gave the strings an experimental strum that sounded a lot better than they had when she tried to do it manually. Arnold did the same with the guitar in his lap, adjusting the pegs as he did so.

"What do you wanna play?" He asked, resting his forearm against the instrument.

"Uh… Nothing," Helga said decisively. "I don't know any songs,"

Arnold lifted an eyebrow, not fully buying it. "I don't believe that, Pataki,"

Helga fixed her gaze on him. He was intent on challenging her today. "I only know _one_ song, okay?" She huffed. "I just started giving a shit about learning so all I know is _one song_ and a few crappy chords,"

"What's the song?" He asked, ignoring her hostility.

" _Ugh_ ," She grumbled. "You know, you question me like I've got the freakin' map to the lost city of Atlantis, Football-head,"

"Soo…" Arnold pushed on. "What's the song?" He smirked.

"I can't stand you," Helga rolled her eyes and shook her head, but regardless, began to play a tune Arnold vaguely recognized.

"Sing it," He requested. "I'm trying to remember what it is,"

"It's Staind," Helga answered. "And you're S.O.L. if you think I'm gonna sing,"

"Oh yeah!" Arnold said, immediately beginning to play alongside her. "'So Far Away'. It's a good song – why won't you sing?"

Helga looked at him incredulously. " _Because!_ I don't _want to!_ "

Arnold gave her a look, exhaling through his nose but returning his attention to his guitar.

As the sound of their guitars melded together in the otherwise quiet room, Helga contemplated the lyrics to the song. She did like the song a lot and she was actually starting to feel more or less comfortable with Arnold. It's not like she thought he would laugh at her. Emboldened, she began to sing under her breath, barely mumbling at first.

" _Now that we're here, it's so far away,"_ Her voice was barely audible but Arnold caught it, a small smile appearing on his lips. She wasn't looking at him but he lifted his gaze frequently to watch her. " _All the struggle we thought was in vain. All the mistakes, one life contained—"_

Softly, Arnold began to sing the harmony with her, careful not to look up and meet her gaze lest he spook her into silence. " _—They all finally start to go away,"_

Helga looked up when Arnold started singing along with her. Neither of them had the most compelling voices but she marveled that they didn't sound half-bad together. That alone was enough to make her swoon but she let herself get sucked into the song instead.

 _"Now that we're here, it's so far away and I feel like I can face the day,"_ They were both enveloped in the song, caught up in the moment and the enjoyment of the music they were creating. " _I can forgive, and I'm not ashamed to be the person that I am today,"_

At the completion of that verse, they both stopped playing.

"That sounded pretty good," Arnold marveled cheerily.

"Yeah, it was okay," Helga said, less enthusiastically than she felt.

Arnold caught himself smiling at her and jumped when she looked up at him, catching him staring.

"Uh, we should jam more often," He suggested and Helga seemed to weigh the idea in her mind.

"Maybe," She shrugged, digging her phone out of her jacket pocket to check the time. "Oh hey, I should go. I promised Miriam I'd meet her so we can figure out dinner," Her voice was less than enthused as she stood up and returned the guitar to the corner in which she found it.

"Oh, okay," Arnold said, the hint of disappointment mildly noticeable in his voice as he stood up, leaning his guitar against the wall. "Should I give you a ride?"

Helga shook her head. "Nah, don't worry about it," She waved him off. "But thanks," She looked around, uncertain of what to say. This day had been full of unexpected encounters and rollercoasters of emotions already. "This was… fun," She said shakily but Arnold smiled.

"Yeah," He said. "I'll catch up with you later,"

"Okay," Helga nodded, pursing her lips. "Well… see ya," She said quickly and ducked out of the room. Arnold could hear her footsteps clunking down the attic ladder until she got to the floor beneath them and he couldn't hear her anymore. He leaned against his bedroom door and pulled his phone from his pocket.

Opening a new text to Gerald, he shook his head, still half-disbelieving the idea going through his mind but unable to deny it at this point.

 **Hey… So I think you might be right about the me and Helga thing…**

 **[A/N: The two songs in this chapter were 'Hello' - Evanescence and 'So Far Away' - Staind.]**


	10. Chapter 10

**[A/N: No, I have not given up on this story! I've just been busy XD I'm so sorry for those of you that have been waiting for an update on this (or any of my other fics that haven't had an update in a while, eep!). I'm seriously trying to get a handle on everything because my GOAL IN LIFE is to get all of my unfinished fics finished! I actually just updated one of my other HA fics, The Secrets That You Keep, so check that out if it's one you're following. That one should actually be done in a few chapters so there's good news! lol**

 **Thank you so much for your patience and reviews. I'll try not to take so long with the next chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think :)]**

"Man, I _told_ you!" Gerald laughed later that evening as he and Arnold hung out on the boarding house roof after dinner. Gerald never had to be invited over to eat meals at the boarding house – at this point, he was as much as part of the family as any of them.

"Yeah…" Arnold mumbled, sighing audibly.

"So what happened?" Gerald asked, fully engrossed in the subject. "What meteor finally fell from the sky and knocked you upside that football head of yours?"

Arnold deadpanned at his friend but then shrugged. "I dunno. It's like, the more time I spend with her, the more I realize that I just want to spend even _more_ time with her… and I think I almost kissed her so there's that…" He trailed off.

"Hold up," Gerald put up a hand. "For real?"

"Well, I dunno," Arnold said quickly. "But, I think I… could… have?"

"Ooooh shit," Gerald leaned back in his folding lawn chair, grinning. "Did she pop you?"

"No, actually," Arnold replied. "She just kind of stared at me," He shook his head. "I don't really know what I was doing, it was weird,"

Gerald laughed. "Well, I'll be damned. My man's finally gonna get some action,"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Arnold exclaimed, his cheeks pinkening. "I did not even hint at anything remotely close to that! Besides, I don't think she's interested. She's going through some stuff and…" He trailed off again. "Well, I mean, I know she had that crush back in elementary school but that was _years_ ago. We're completely different and I'm only half-sure she wants to be my _friend,_ let alone –"

"Your _lover_?" Gerald said, raising the pitch of his voice and batting his eyelashes.

"I can't talk to you about this anymore," Arnold grumbled.

"Oh, come on, Arnold," Gerald said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm just fuckin' with ya. Besides, if she didn't push you away, then… who knows? Right?"

"Yeah, who knows…" Arnold agreed distantly. "So, what about your date with Phoebe? How was it?"

"Man!" Gerald said, welcoming the change in subject. "That girl trips me out but I like it!"

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked inquisitively.

"I dunno, man," Gerald shrugged. "She's just different and like, I feel different when I'm around her. You know?"

"I guess," Arnold said cautiously.

"I mean, we didn't do anything crazy," Gerald continued. "I mean, shit, I didn't even _kiss her._ But we talked and it was just…" He shrugged. "It was just good. I'm gonna take her to a movie on Thursday so we'll see how it goes,"

Arnold forced himself to be positive for his friend. "That sounds great, Gerald,"

On the inside, however, Arnold was starting to grow more concerned. He could see a difference in Gerald – the way he lit up when he talked about Phoebe reminded him of the days when they were kids and Gerald and Phoebe would spend hours talking on the phone, attending parties and dances together, and just otherwise being the 4th grade equivalent of an "item". He could see the same spark in his friend's eye that he had had years ago, a spark that he didn't see when Gerald was with other girls, and that unnerved him because if Gerald could be this high off of one date with Phoebe, how hard would the fall be when Gerald learned about Phoebe's illness?

. . . . . . . .

"I got off the phone with your sister a little while ago," Miriam said as she and Helga settled into their respective seats in the motel room, sharing a large pizza from the carry-out place down the street. Miriam was sitting cross-legged on her twin bed while Helga was lounging side-ways across a large cushioned chair near the door.

 _Oh great…_ Helga thought to herself as she lifted a string of runaway cheese to her mouth.

"She's gonna be back in Hillwood in a couple days," Miriam continued, despite the silence. "That should be nice,"

"Oh yeah," Helga said sarcastically, her mouth full. "I'm just _oozing_ with _glee_ ,"

"We haven't seen Olga in almost a year," Miriam replied, her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

 _Not long enough…_ Helga bit her tongue.

"Anyway," Miriam went on, desperately trying to fill the silence between them. "You can go back to the house tomorrow while Bob's at work and get whatever you might need,"

"Why are we doing this, Miriam?" Helga finished her slice and sat up, piercing her mother with a hard stare. "This is between you and Bob, not me,"

Miriam halted for a second, as if pondering how to respond. "I am your mother -"

" _Big deal!_ " Helga interrupted. "I've been taking care of myself for sixteen years; why -"

" _Watch it_ , Helga," Miriam warned in a voice Helga hadn't heard her use with anyone other than Bob lately. The surprise of it stopped her in her tracks. Miriam sighed. "I know you haven't had the best upbringing and I _know_ things have been rough for you, _alright?_ For god's sake, as if your father hasn't been _rubbing my nose in it_ for years. I definitely don't need it from _you,_ okay?" She said sternly. "Not now,"

Helga stared at her mom, unsure of what to say. That was the first time she'd ever heard either of her parents really acknowledge that they'd screwed up when it came to raising her. The naked truth of it was a blow to hear, even if it was no secret.

Miriam stopped trying to make conversation and instead grabbed another slice of pizza from the box on the bed between them.

Breaking the silence, Helga said softly, "I never understood why you and Bob even got together in the first place," Her voice was tentative, as if she was afraid of spooking not only Miriam but also herself out of having this conversation. "I mean, it never seemed to make sense and he's such a blow-hard…"

Miriam sighed, sinking back into the white, starchy pillows of her bed. "Believe it or not, Helga," She said, resting her paper plate on her stomach as she gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. "He wasn't always like that. In fact, there was a time when your father was actually quite charming,"

 _Oh brother…_ Helga rolled her eyes, fighting against the urge to mumble aloud.

Miriam didn't need Helga to respond. She ventured into her explanation with no prompting at all.

"We met when I was in college," Miriam began, never looking at Helga but instead fixated on the ceiling as if she could see the scene playing out before her. "I was a freshman at my first college party. He was there with a friend of his but he wasn't a student. At that time, he was working under your grandfather in his hardware store,"

"And let me guess," Helga interrupted. "Your eyes met across a crowded room and it was _love at first sight?"_

Miriam deadpanned at her daughter's sarcasm but chose to ignore it. Sometimes the backbone Miriam had grown over her years in A.A. made Helga a little uneasy. She wasn't used to having a relationship like this with her mother. In fact, she hadn't had an actual heart to heart with her mom since she was nine years old and even that had been short-lived.

"I was there with a few of my girlfriends," Miriam continued. "And there was this incredibly handsome junior that I'd been talking to for much of the night," She paused. "I was a bit naive in those days and to keep a long story short, he tried something that I wasn't interested in,"

Helga's ears perked up, listening to her mom's story.

"Bob saw us struggling and came over right away," Miriam said, the memory crisp in her mind as if it'd happened only a week ago. "Before I knew it, he'd punched the guy and was asking me if I was alright," Miriam shrugged. "It was history from there,"

Helga sat quietly, soaking in her mom's story. She'd never known how her parents got together. Frankly, she'd never cared to ask and though she'd brought the topic up sarcastically, she was glad she knew now. It almost made sense now.

"Wow…" Helga said, sinking back into her chair.

"Bob's not a bad guy," Miriam added. "But you, of all people, understand that we aren't the best match,"

Helga snorted. "Yeah, no kidding…"

Miriam sighed wistfully and Helga thought a topic change might be a good idea.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked. "I mean, we're not staying in this crappy motel forever, right?"

Miriam sat her plate on the bed and rolled onto her side, facing Helga. "No, of course not," She said but when she didn't continue immediately, Helga suspected she didn't actually have a plan. "I'll figure it out,"

Helga deflated a little but she hid it well. For everything else going on in her life, the last thing she wanted to deal with was additional instability.

The quiet between them was broken when Miriam's cell phone started ringing.

"It's Olga," She said and Helga immediately stood up.

"I'm gonna get some air," Helga said, moving to the door as her mom answered the phone. The last thing she wanted was to get sucked into a one-sided conversation with Olga and by the sound of her sister's loud, hysterical voice coming from the phone as Miriam answered the call, she surmised she'd made the right decision.

. . . . . . . .

The motel room made Helga feel claustrophobic after a while so after her shower, she went outside to sit on the curb and stew in her thoughts. She still wasn't sure how she was going to talk to Phoebe or even what to say. The thought of it immediately made her depressed and want to distance herself from the emotional reality of it all. She felt awful for the way she'd acted yesterday and it was her shame that made her hesitate in going to Phoebe and apologizing. What could she even say? Her best friend had told her she was essentially _dying_ and instead of being there for her, she'd gotten pissed and stormed out. She couldn't help but tell herself this was probably the reason Phoebe had waited so long in the first place. Helga knew she often took Phoebe for granted and now, looking back, she could barely keep her head afloat in this sea of regret that mercilessly tossed her about.

A buzzing in the pocket of her sweats stirred her from her thoughts and her emotions did a 180 when she saw the text was from Arnold.

 **Hey, how's it going?**

Helga pursed her lips, exhaling deeply as she contemplated a response. Truthfully, she was feeling pretty morose but she didn't exactly want to get into a conversation like that over text. Or at all, but hey, she'd already broken ground on that one with him the day before.

 **Fine. Motels are my favorite place to be!**

 **:/ yeah, that sucks you had to go to a motel. How long do you think you and your mom are gonna stay there?**

She smiled to herself, mentally giving him kudos when he picked up on her sarcasm even through text.

 **Hell if I know. She doesn't even have an idea. I'm just along for the ride.**

Helga watched as ellipses popped up and disappeared multiple times, indicating that Arnold was typing something either really long or that he kept changing his mind about what he was writing. The message finally popped up after a couple minutes.

 **I'm pretty sure we have extra rooms open here at the boarding house if you guys wanted to stay here. I don't know what your mom wants to do but I can talk to my grandpa if you think it might be an option.**

Helga pursed her lips, her breath catching in her throat as she imagined living in the boarding house _with_ Arnold. All the times she'd snuck in uninvited, all the times she'd wondered about his life inside that grungy old building… the idea of actually living there, living _with_ him, was beyond anything she'd thought of as more than a fantasy. But here he was, legitimately offering up the idea as if it was no big deal.

 **I can check.** She responded after a few minutes of second-guessing herself, erasing and re-typing the same thing over and over.

 **Cool. :) Just let me know.**

Helga was just brainstorming something else to say to keep the conversation going when Arnold beat her to it.

 **When did you want to come over and finish our report?**

 **Um, maybe tomorrow I guess.**

 **Have you talked to Phoebe yet?**

Helga narrowed her eyes at her phone. How was it that he possessed some sort of other-wordly ability to get inside her head, even through texting?

 **No.**

 **If you wanted to go talk to her, you and I could get together either before or after. Whatever works for you.**

Helga smirked at the way his buttinski ways had become more subtle over the years.

 **I'll let you know.**

 **Sounds good. :) Have a good night, Helga.**

Helga felt herself blush at his last text, her mind whirling as she agonized on his intention and use of multiple smileys in their conversation.

"Get it together, Helga," She chastised herself under her breath as she stood up to go back inside the motel room. "They're just freaking smiley faces," But even saying it aloud brought an involuntary grin to her face and she fought the urge to swoon.

. . . . . . . .

Helga woke up to the jarring sound of a garbage truck emptying the contents of one of the dumpsters outside. As she grimaced, pulling her pillow over her head in a vain attempt to block out the noise, she noticed Miriam bustling around the hotel room.

"Morning, honey," Her mother chimed absent-mindedly.

"What time is it?" Helga groaned, straining to see the bedside clock that read just before 9 am. "Criminy!"

"I'm gonna go take care of a few things, Helga," Miriam said, slipping her purse over her shoulder. "Your room key is here on the dresser. I should be back in a few hours but I'll text you if anything changes,"

"Where are you going?" Helga asked groggily, sitting up and wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Well," Miriam exhaled. "I'm meeting a friend for breakfast - she might be able to get me an interview at her office - and then I'm gonna check out some apartments so we can get out of here," She gestured around vaguely.

Helga blinked in surprise and admiration. She'd half-expected Miriam's plan to be half-baked or fall through completely but it looked like she was actually taking reasonable steps to get them into a better situation. "Wow, Miriam," She said. "I'm impressed. But um, actually…" Helga hesitated, a little nervous to bring up Arnold's offer even though Miriam had no reason to detect Helga's affinity for the idea so long as she could keep her facial expressions under control. "You know that boarding house on Vine Street? A friend of mine lives there and he said we could probably get a room there. His grandparents own the place,"

"Hmm," Miriam said, considering the idea. "That would be convenient for school to keep you in the same neighborhood. I'll check it out,"

"Cool," Helga said as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Probably cheaper, too," She added for good measure and Miriam smiled, double-checking she had everything she needed.

"Phone, wallet, keys," Miriam said, checking everything off as she dug through her purse and headed for the door. "See you later, sweetheart,"

"Bye," Helga waved, wondering for a moment what kind of alien pod person had come and taken her mother and replaced her with this woman who seemingly had her shit somewhat together.

. . . . . . . .

She'd almost chickened out, wavering between her commitment and her cowardice, until she ultimately found herself on Phoebe's doorstep, knocking on and the door and ringing the bell for good measure. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say and her chest felt tight as a surplus of emotions ranging from fear to anger to denial formed a cyclone inside her. She knew this was the right thing to do, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. She hated that vulnerability, admitting when she was wrong and even worse, admitting when something scared her or hurt her.

But this was Phoebe, her best friend. This girl had been nothing but a rock to her for as far back as she could remember. This is what she told herself as she bounced on the balls of her feet, wondering if anyone was awake yet even though she knew Phoebe's dad liked to practice his fencing on Sunday mornings and that her mom always listened to the Sunday service radio broadcast from the Baptist church across town.

Helga's heart rate jumped when she heard the deadbolt unlock and the door opened. Phoebe stood before her in blue and white plaid pajamas bottoms and an old Dinoland T-shirt, despite looking like she'd been awake for some time. The two were quiet for a moment before Helga broke the silence, shrugging away her awkwardness.

"Um, hey Pheebs…"


	11. Chapter 11

"Can I uh, come in?" Helga asked hesitantly, completely at Phoebe's mercy.

The petite brunette's eyebrows stitched together as she looked to the floor and stepped back. "Yes, of course," She said in a small voice as Helga stepped inside.

"Look, I um…" Helga began, her back to Phoebe as she stared at the wall in front of her. She wasn't sure she could get through this if she looked at her. "I uh… I'm really sorry Pheebs," She said, looking down at the floor and turning to lean her side against the wall. "I was a total bitch and I-I understand why you didn't tell me before…"

"Helga…" Phoebe stepped closer to her friend and put a hand on her shoulder. "I was… I could have handled the situation better myself," She said carefully. "I suppose I was afraid of your reaction…"

Helga shrugged, finally turning around to face her. "But you were right," She said emphatically. "I lost my shit and -" She hesitated, feeling a well of emotions bubbling up inside her. "I um… I wasn't ready… I didn't want to hear… I um…" She shook her head, looking down as tears brimmed in her eyes and she fought them back. "If you uh… God, if you've been doing treatment that long and now you're saying it's not working anymore…" Her chest felt like it was on fire and at this point, there was no chance of her holding anything else back no matter how tough she tried to be. "That means -" She choked and tears finally broke free, sliding down her cheeks before she could wipe them away. "I can't _lose_ you, Pheebs," She said, her voice wavering as she looked up to the ceiling to try and subdue her tears and sniffles without making eye contact.

Phoebe pursed her lips. There wasn't much she could say to that and even if there was, she didn't know the words. Despite her own fears about the situation, she'd more or less had the chance to make peace with her fate. This was all fresh and raw for Helga and it was heart-breaking to see this girl who had a terribly difficult time being vulnerable all but fall apart in front of her.

"I-I… you're my best friend, Pheebs," Helga managed, her voice punctuated by her struggling sobs as she tried to keep herself steady. "I mean," She said, feigning a more light-hearted tone. "What am I gonna do without you? I can't… I can't…" She trailed off, the geyser of emotion in her chest erupting once more and Phoebe watched as Helga's eyes flooded faster than she could paw the tears away. "God _dammit_ …"

Wordlessly, Phoebe put her arm around her, pulling her in for a hug that Helga greedily accepted. Helga rested her head over Phoebe's shoulder as her torso shook with her sobs and tears slid from Phoebe's eyes as well.

"Anything you need," Helga said after a moment, sniffling as she pulled away. "I will be there for you through all of this, okay? You can count on me," She lightly gripped Phoebe's shoulders for emphasis as Phoebe's eyes watered behind her glasses. "I won't let you down again, Pheebs," She said solemnly and Phoebe exhaled sharply, embracing Helga once more.

. . . . . . . .

Helga left Phoebe's house feeling somewhat better, albeit emotionally drained. She wouldn't have minded hanging out longer but Phoebe had made plans to spend some quality time with her mom and Helga was quick to encourage that. She was adamant about not making things more difficult for Phoebe and keeping her promise to be as supportive as she could possibly be. It was the dawning of a new era, the turning over of a new leaf, and she was determined to avoid screwing things up again. Even if she felt like she was falling apart on the inside.

She trudged up Arnold's stoop, pounding on the door and observing the peeling green paint. It had never been the most updated building but it had certainly seen its fair share of weathering over the years.

"Yeah?" Arnold's grandpa answered the door, giving Helga a curiously suspicious look. "We don't want any,"

"I'm here to see Arnold," Helga said with a slight deadpan, though she didn't have much energy to be as snarky as she normally would be. "We have a project to do,"

"I've got it, Grandpa," Arnold said as he approached from the kitchen. "It's just Helga; we're working on a science project,"

"Hmm," The wily old man raised an eyebrow at Helga and stepped aside as Arnold came up beside him. "Remember your instincts, Arnold," He whispered to his grandson, cupping a hand partially over his mouth.

Arnold stared, giving him a puzzled look. "Um, sure," He looked to Helga. "Come on in," He said, ushering her inside and toward the staircase. "We'll be in my room,"

Grandpa's eyes widened and he gestured wildly with his arms, "Not _those_ instincts!"

" _GRANDPA!"_ Arnold exclaimed through gritted teeth, his face flushing as he immediately caught on to his grandfather's innuendo.

"Hehehehe," Grandpa snickered as he walked into the living room muttering something to himself about being a wily old coot.

"Sorry about that," Arnold mumbled as he continued to lead Helga upstairs, afraid to look at her face and see her reaction to his grandfather's comment. "He's got this sense of humor and -"

"He sure as hell doesn't hold back," Helga added with a smirk, thankful that Arnold hadn't seen the way she had blushed as well. "I can respect that," She chuckled to hide her mild discomfort.

"Yeah…" Arnold said as he exhaled, happy to move on from the topic as they ascended the fold-out stairs to his bedroom. "So uh," He said as he closed the door behind her, a strange nervousness coming over him all of a sudden. "How is everything?"

Helga shrugged, "It's okay," She said, waiting a beat before deciding to elaborate. "I actually did talk to Phoebe…"

"That's great!" Arnold said brightly. "It went okay, right?"

"Yeah," Helga nodded but her face was somber. "Yeah, we're okay now, I guess,"

Arnold let his gaze fall. He didn't expect her to be in the best of spirits. She wasn't typically a cheery person to begin with. The added factor of dealing with her friend's mortality was only going to bring her down more.

"Did you want to talk about it?" He offered gently.

She shook her head, "No," He'd expected that.

"Okay," Arnold said, exhaling as he decided to move things along. "So um, I started working on our report," He said, leading her over to the laptop on his desk. "It's just the description of our assignment and the steps we've taken so far. It's not completely done but I figured you'd wanna put your thoughts into it, too," He said as she sat down, her shoulder barely grazing his fingers where he held the back of the chair. "We could probably run our tests tomorrow in the lab after school, if you're free," He stared down at the back of her head, his words running on auto-pilot as he marveled at how soft her hair looked and the way the light from his skylight bounced off the strands, making them appear incredibly shiny.

"Works for me," She shrugged, looking up at him and catching him off-guard.

"Uh, okay," He said, recovering from his startle. "Great,"

They'd spent much of the late morning working on the different components of their report that could be done without the test results. They'd need to record their findings and write a summary description after the fact but getting everything else done seemed like a good use of the time. They were just finishing up the rationale for their location choices when a knock on the door interrupted their progress.

"It's open!" Arnold called out and Ernie peered around the door frame.

"Sorry," He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Your grandpa said you had a girl up here so I didn't want to… intrude,"

Arnold deadpanned, slapping a hand to his face and sliding it down in an exaggerated gesture. "We're working on a school project. It's fine," He said plainly, doing a better job at concealing his mild embarrassment this time around. "What did you need?"

"It's lunch time," Ernie replied simply. "Apparently your grandparents think I'm some sort of messenger boy - talkin' about how they're too _old_ to be climbin' up and down these attic steps. As if it's a piece of cake for me! I don't know if you've noticed, Arnold, but I don't exactly have the longest legs and those steps of yours are two steps away from the wrecking ball," He grinned at Helga. "Pun intended,"

"Sorry, Ernie," Arnold said with a sigh. He was so used to hearing the tenants' complaints that they rolled off his back like raindrops on a leaf at this point. "We'll be down in a second,"

"Sorry about that," Arnold apologized once Ernie left. "I don't know why everyone's being so weird about you being here,"

Helga shrugged, though she couldn't say she hadn't noticed. "So what, are you some sort of womanizing player like Gerald in your free time?" She said sarcastically, cleverly digging for information about his personal life. "Leading a double life, huh?"

Arnold's response was a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "Not exactly," He shook his head, reaching past her to close the laptop and keeping his face from her view to give him the chance to regain his composure. "They just like to joke around… even if it's awkward,"

"Hmm," Helga hummed thoughtfully, following Arnold downstairs.

"Ahh, Eleanor!" Arnold's grandma beamed when Arnold and Helga stepped into the dining room. There was a tray of lunch meats and cheeses in the center of the table along with a large pot of soup with a serving ladle leaning against the edge. Most of the boarders were already seated and impatiently waiting to eat. Ernie tapped his fingers along the tabletop, Grandpa was doing most of the work in terms of bringing items from the kitchen to the dining room, and the Kokoshkas were bickering as usual. "What a pleasure it is to see you again,"

Helga quirked an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. "Yeah, uh," She nodded, following Arnold to the table. "You too?"

"Grandma," Arnold said in an infinitely patient voice. "This is Helga, not _Eleanor,"_

"Arnold," His grandma scolded softly. "You should mind your manners in front of our First Lady and address her with _respect_ ,"

"Oh brother…" Arnold rolled his eyes, giving up as he and Helga sat at the table with the rest of the boarders. "Just ignore them," He muttered to Helga who immediately disregarded his guidance.

"So, Gertie, right?" Helga said, leaning an elbow on the table nonchalantly. "What do you think about the U.S. joining the United Nations?"

Arnold's eyes widened incredulously as he watched Helga actually _engage_ his grandmother in her eccentricities.

"We're behind you, 100%, my liege!" Gertie replied emphatically, saluting Helga who only grinned in amusement.

"I appreciate the support," She replied as Ernie snickered beside her.

"She catches on quick," The shorter man leaned back in his seat and muttered to Arnold who was still caught between disbelief and amusement.

"So I hear you and your mom are plannin' to move in here," Grandpa said, sitting down at the table and putting a sandwich together for himself. The other boarders quickly followed his lead.

"Uh, we are?" Helga's expression quickly morphed from relaxed amusement to mildly anxious surprise.

"Yeah, she called up here earlier," Grandpa nodded. "Said you needed a place to stay and we've got plenty of room, don't we Pookie?"

"Only the best accommodations for you, Madam President," Gertie agreed solemnly.

"I don't think that's how you would address Eleanor Roosevelt," Helga quipped to Arnold under her breath. "But I could get used to that title,"

Arnold chuckled. "So I guess you guys are moving out of that motel,"

Helga shrugged, noticing she had yet to finish putting her sandwich together. "I guess so…"

. . . . . . . .

After lunch, Arnold and Helga headed back up to his room to continue working on their report. While he'd more or less decided to hold off on making any sort of move or telling her about his newfound feelings, he couldn't help but feel in awe of her ability to so seamlessly integrate herself in a meal with his eccentric family. The way she could so easily exchange jokes and witty banter with any of the boarders, _and_ his grandparents impressed him, to say the least.

As they were nearing the end of the parts the report they could work on today, Arnold ran through a million different ways he could encourage her to continue to hang out today. It was barely mid-afternoon and he couldn't explain it but he just wanted to spend more time with her.

"I don't think we can do much more until we get those lab results," Helga said, sitting back in his desk chair.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Arnold said slowly, buying time as he put an idea together in his head. "Hey, I had an idea,"

"Oh wow!" Helga feigned a child-like sense of wonder. "That's amazing!"

Arnold deadpanned but he couldn't help but chuckle at her sense of humor. "Hear me out," He said, crossing the room to grab his guitars.

"Oh criminy," Helga rolled her eyes, realizing what he was aiming at even before he said anything. "This again?"

"C'mon, it'd be fun," He smiled warmly and she felt like a current of electricity had shot through her.

"I told you I only know a few things, Football-head," Helga retorted even as he laid the guitar she'd played before in her lap. "Or do you wanna just sit here and play the same dumb-ass chords over and over?"

"I know a few songs," Arnold replied, undeterred. "I could teach you,"

"And what makes you think I _want_ you to?" Helga countered, one eyebrow raised defiantly.

Arnold shrugged. "I dunno, but it was fun before," He pursed his lips as he began to wonder if this idea was falling flat already. "I guess if you don't want to -"

He reached to take the guitar but she swiveled in the chair out of his grasp. "I didn't say _that_ ," She said. "I just said 'what makes you think I _want_ to?'," Helga positioned the guitar and dug through the drawer in his desk where she remembered he kept his picks. Arnold smiled as he watched her dig out the plastic baggie, take one for herself, and toss it to him.

"Cool," He said, pulling out a pick and tossing the bag up on the desk.

They spent the next couple hours working through various chords and songs with Arnold patiently helping her along the way. She was a quick study, that was for sure, and he marveled at how easy it was to spend time with her. Something was definitely different about her and it didn't take him long to realize that it was simply that she wasn't acting mean or putting up any of her usual defenses. She was still crass and sarcastic but in a less hostile way. Maybe it was because of everything going on lately but he couldn't help but admit that he was enjoying this side of Helga. Of course, the underlying reason for her subdued nature was nothing to be happy about, but in this moment, it was just the two of them - playing guitar, laughing and talking like friends. And maybe, a glimmer of something more.

. . . . . . . .

Miriam called Helga in the early evening, asking her to come back to the motel so they could pack up and talk about their next steps so Arnold offered to give her a ride.

"That was fun," Arnold said pleasantly as they drove through the relatively quiet city streets. Sundays didn't see nearly as much traffic as other days of the week.

"Yeah," Helga murmured, suddenly feeling shy. They'd spent hours hanging out together and it'd passed by in the blink of an eye. Helga was now acutely aware of just how much she'd let her guard down today and briefly wondered if he'd arranged some sort of voodoo mind control while she was over.

"We should definitely keep jamming like that," He said, shooting her a smile before returning his gaze to the road. "If you want to,"

Helga pursed her lips, unsure of how to respond. How was this even happening? Arnold _wanting_ to hang out with her? The whole day felt more like a dream or fantasy of hers than a typical Sunday afternoon. Somehow she'd even managed to forget about the trouble at home and everything going on with Phoebe, if only for a few hours. However, as they drew closer to the motel, reality began to wash over her like a cold rain and she sobered with each passing minute.

"That could be cool, I guess," Helga replied, careful to avoid sounding at all enthusiastic despite the bubbling nerves of excitement that danced under her skin.

"Awesome," Arnold said, then turned his attention to the rearview mirror where he could see a car behind him that had sped up and was now riding his bumper. "Ugh,"

Helga followed his gaze and turned around to scowl at the aggressive driver behind them. Within seconds, the driver swerved into the next lane and zoomed past them, barely giving himself enough room as he cut back into Arnold's lane and caused Arnold to hit the brakes quickly.

"Son of a bitch!" Helga exclaimed angrily.

"Sorry," Arnold said regretfully. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," She said dismissively, glaring at the car ahead of them. "Speed up, Arnold,"

"What? No!" He replied automatically. "We should just let him go, Helga. If they're gonna act like that, it's better if we avoid them,"

"My ass," Helga scoffed, rolling down her window and sticking her arm out to flip the driver off.

"Helga!" Arnold scolded. "Stop it!"

"Man up, Football-head," Helga retorted, pulling her arm back in and settling back against her seat. "You gotta put people in their place sometimes,"

"No, not really," He countered, turning off the main road and down a side street that would take them to the motel.

"Oh Arnold, Arnold, Arnold," Helga shook her head sympathetically. "You have so much to learn,"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, unable to hide his smirk. "Whatever you say, Helga,"

. . . . . . . .

After dinner, Miriam and Helga separated for a bit so that Miriam could continue working on job applications. They'd spent a good hour discussing their next steps with Miriam leaving Bob as they filled themselves up with Chinese takeout. Miriam would check them out of the motel tomorrow while Helga was at school and Helga would meet her at the boarding house later that afternoon. They didn't have many belongings with them at the motel so Miriam was confident she wouldn't need any help getting everything there.

"What about my stuff that's still at the house?" Helga questioned as she slurped a lo mein noodle into her mouth.

"I'm trying to coordinate with your father," Miriam responded tightly, pushing her rice around in its carton with her chopsticks. "Someday this week we'll go over while he's still at work and get everything we need,"

Helga groaned, irritated. "Why can't I just go over?" She gestured emphatically, flinging a tiny bit of food off of her chopstick and across the room. "It's not a big deal! You're the one that doesn't wanna run into him, which, okay, that's fine. But why do _I_ have to be inconvenienced because of what's going on with you two?"

"I'm trying to make this transition as smooth as possible, Helga," Miriam said.

"Okay…" The fiery blonde frowned, stabbing her chopsticks into her noodles and setting the carton on the bedside table. "But it's not smooth - it's annoying. I just wanna get my stuff. I mean, criminy, it's not like he _beat us up_ or something! He's just an ass,"

Miriam gave Helga a warning look but said nothing.

"I told you before, I don't care what you guys do with your lives but don't stick me in the middle of it," Helga leaned back against the pillows on the bed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Miriam sighed. "We'll get your stuff, Helga," She said in a reassuring, albeit tired voice. "I'll make sure of it, okay?" She waited for her daughter to respond but all she got was an unimpressed lift of her eyebrows before she watched her daughter climb off the bed and walk outside.

A brief drizzle had come through, leaving the pavement outside wet and shimmering in the light from the streetlights that had just come on an hour ago. Spring buds had fallen from the strategically placed young trees that lined the sidewalk, covering the nearby cars with little reddish-brown symbols of renewal and the impending seasons to come.

Helga walked along the curb of the sidewalk, step by step like a gymnast on a balance beam, allowing herself the space to process the day. This would have been a perfect time to write, if she had her poetry notebooks with her, but everything was at the house and she didn't want to pour her soul into the science notebook she was using for her project with Arnold.

A buzzing in her pocket stirred her from her thoughts and she pulled her phone out, groaning and considering ignoring the call as she read the name 'Olga' on the screen. Against her better judgment, she accepted the call.

"Yes, Olga?" Helga said, faking a pleasant tone as she continued her balancing act.

"Helga!" Her sister's sickeningly sweet voice made her regret her momentary lapse in judgment. "Baby sister! I've been wanting to talk to you for days and days now! Mummy said you've been busy and I -"

"Get to the point, Olga," Helga interrupted bluntly.

"Ah- right, okay," Olga said, recovering swiftly from the brief disappointment of being cut off. "Oh Helga, I just don't know what to do. Mummy and Daddy are… are…" Helga could hear the way her sister's voice was starting to break and she rolled her eyes impatiently.

"They're getting a divorce," Helga finished for her. "You can't tell me you didn't see this coming?"

"I just don't understand!" Olga exclaimed dramatically and Helga could tell through the phone that the waterworks had already commenced. "Daddy is so upset,"

"You've talked to him?" Helga raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I have, Helga," Olga said, sniffling. "Haven't you?"

"Nope," Helga said, circling around back in the direction of the motel door after reaching the end of the lot. "I just want to get my stuff from the house but I don't really care one way or the other about what they do," She said curtly. "But he _has_ been a grade-A jackass and Mom's actually getting her shit together,"

"Daddy means well," Olga defended gently. "I know he has a temper but…"

"Ha!" Helga scoffed. "He's a self-involved blowhard and he always has been. You just don't see it because he worships the ground you walk on," She said bitterly.

Olga paused and Helga wondered if this conversation would be ending soon. She certainly hoped so. "I don't think it's that simple, Helga,"

"Whatever," Helga said apathetically.

"I know they died before you were born," Olga said, taking a different route in the conversation that momentarily caught Helga off-guard. "But do you know anything about Grand-mom and Grand-dad? Daddy's parents?"

"No?" Helga said, unsure why this should matter.

Olga sighed. "You shouldn't be so hard on Daddy. I think there are some things that would surprise you,"

"Fat chance," Helga said dismissively. "Look, I've gotta go, alright? If you wanna kiss Bob's ass, by all means, be my guest, but leave me out of it,"

Olga paused. "Okay, Helga," She said dejectedly.


End file.
